Oblivion
by Slide
Summary: It's been two years; two years of grief, of pain, of hardship, and Rose thought it was all, finally, over. But the end is only just beginning. Part 3 of the Stygian Trilogy, and sequel to 'Ignite' and 'Starfall'.
1. Through All This Tract of Years

**Through All This Tract of Years**

The wolves had followed him for an hour now. Paved Muggle roads turned to well-trodden paths with signs he couldn't understand, and when he stepped onto the dirt-tracks they saw him. Gleaming eyes of gold amid the clustered trees, bobbing lights in the shadowy intricacies of twisted trunks and branches and roots. The wind made the dying leaves dip and dance, made boughs bend and bark creak, but the eyes were steady, constant.

They were just wolves. Mere beasts, nothing more, or so he told himself as he picked up the pace and kept his wand in hand. In a way, he was grateful for their presence. Grateful for the way they made his gut twist in knots, grateful for the way they kept his every other thought focused on their movements, on their loping gaits as they moved about the shrouded undergrowth to stalk him. Moonlight trickled through the canopy of falling leaves to cast flashes of silver across their hides, all rippling stars and lean muscle. But he was a wizard, he had studied at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was not going to be cowed by some mere beast. But so long as he worried about _them_, he wasn't worried about seeing his brother.

The path stabbed downhill, winding through the gloomy woodlands with the chirping undergrowth, and the sound on the breeze changed from the whistle in the leaves to the bubbling of waters. This was the place. Golden eyes followed as he plunged onward until the bubbling became a rushing, and there it was, the surging river with its waters rippling at the starlight above. Like sentinels stood the granite parapets of the bridge, and when he trod on the masonry the wolves did not follow. He stopped and looked to the other side. Nothing waited but these unfathomable woodlands as shrouded by day as they were by night. He pressed on until he was exactly halfway, and his hand brushed along cold stone until he found the carving.

Nobody had told him exactly what to look for, just that he'd know it when he saw it. When the carved face of a wolf looked up at him from the capstone, he had to concede they were right. His wand tapped against each eye, and he held his breath.

_If this was a practical joke, I__'ll wring someone's neck_. Practical jokes were more fun when _he _was the instigator.

There was no rushing of wind, no creaking of trees, no chiming of illumination. Yet when he looked to the far side of the bridge, he did not see darkened woods at all, but the outskirts of a village. Houses were wooden and solid, with broad, dark beams and painted white walls, and firelight crackled from every window, from the lanterns hanging off posts along the paths winding between the buildings. He crossed the bridge, and when he looked behind him, the golden eyes were gone.

Voices babbled in a language he didn't understand, and curious, though not distrusting eyes turned on him as he walked down the street. It had taken some time to get here. Outsiders were likely not common, and so when a middle-aged man with arms like tree-trunks stepped alongside him and said, 'You will want to come this way,' he wagered they had the measure of him right enough.

The man's English was fractured, but he led him down the main street to the heart of the village, a broad square dominated by a granite statue of a cloaked wizard. At the base of the plinth was carved the old, worn triangle of the Deathly Hallows, and he was so sick of seeing that sign he didn't care why it was there. By the time he had steeled his expression, his attention was drawn to the tavern.

Golden light spilt from the windows like there wasn't enough space for it inside, and when his guide gestured that way, the door swung open for a pair of young men to stumble out. They looked deep into their cups and cheerful for it, and so he chose to assume their words when they brushed hard against his shoulder were drunken apologies. Out here, there was nothing he could do about it. His guide left there, and so he tromped up the wooden stairs and stepped into the firelight.

The air was all revelry and hope, but his gaze swept across the well-stocked and well-attended bar, the thick tables around which witches and wizards gathered in jovial clumps, the central spectacle of light and joy and music. He knew where to look. He needed the shadows.

He found the shadow he wanted in a far corner given a wide berth. The locals did not avoid it with an air of apprehension, as he had expected, but simple, calm respect. And so he won more than one suspicious, protective glance as he crossed the tavern and approached the table, more than one mutter of distrust as he drew out the stool and sat opposite the lone occupant. 'You're not an easy man to find.'

Green eyes he hadn't seen in so long watched him, framed by hair darker than he remembered, a face more lined than he remembered. 'I didn't want to be found.'

'Then your better angels tricked you, since I found you because you helped people. The Polish government sent a Dark Creature Hunter here; he reported this morning that the feral werewolves had already been dealt with.'

'You came all this way because some werewolves were already dead?'

'I was _right_, wasn't I?'

A sigh, the lowering of the tankard that had barely been touched. 'What do you _want_, James?'

James Potter narrowed his eyes at his brother. 'It's been over two years, and that's all you've got to say to me?'

'If I had anything more to say,' said Albus in a low, measured voice, 'then I would have come to Britain to say it.'

'You've missed two Christmases. Lily's seventeenth, to say nothing of my birthdays, Mum's, Dad's. All your friends leaving Hogwarts -'

The tankard slammed on the table. '_Not _all of them.'

_So that__'s still a raw wound. _'Instead you'd rather be out here. In dark corners of the world, doing what, exactly?'

'Trying to make them a little less dark.' Albus didn't look at him as he sipped his drink.

'_Running_. This isn't healing, Al, this isn't having a life, this isn't getting over your grief. You might be wallowing in the Australian outback, or the Amazonian jungle, or in the middle of bloody nowhere here in Poland, but it's wallowing all the same. You were hurt, and you wanted to run, and Mum and Dad _let _you run but this has to _stop_, Al. Two years.'

'Two years, four months.'

James thumped his hand on the table and didn't care that the locals gave him unhappy looks. 'Mum let you go because she thought you needed time to sort yourself out. She thought you'd be gone weeks, maybe months. Not _this _long. She thought you'd actually be _back_!'

'I never said I would be back.'

'So this is it? Your life? Drifting from place to place, righting wrongs like some sort of knight errant, fixing magical problems for magical people in exchange for a roof over your head, a drink at the end of the bloody day?'

'What makes prancing on the Quidditch pitch inherently more purposeful?'

'Because I do it with friends!' James tossed his hands in the air. 'Because I have Grandma's Sunday lunch round the Burrow most weeks. Because I _love _the game I play, and I love the people I play it with, and I love the life I live outside of it. Sure, the press can bugger off and they cancelled the World Cup thanks to the sodding Council of sodding Thorns, but all that's been dying out now.'

'Dying out.' Albus snorted. 'Raskoph and his people have most of South America. A continent in the hands of deranged dark wizards with their anti-Muggle, traditionalist ways. Is the IMC going to ignore him now? Does the Grindelwald loyalist get a free pass because he's not pestering the western world any more?'

'The IMC doesn't do_ anything_ any more. You've been paying this much attention; you know that. The Americans are dealing with Raskoph and Brazil and all that, and the Council of Thorns elsewhere are just skulking dark wizards that local authorities can deal with. We don't need an international organisation with its far-reaching powers to deal with them. The bastards are dead, Al; they didn't die with a bang, they went with a whimper, slowly strangled after they lost their weapons, but they are _history_. And that's thanks to _you_, in great part.'

Albus wore a frown so unlike the sort James expected from his brother. He had always been serious, sombre, good-hearted, and his frowns were of concern, or thoughtfulness. The light in his eyes now was only bitter. 'Then my reward is that I want to be left alone.'

'Bloody hell, Al. I know Malfoy was your friend. I know you were close. And I can't guess what it's like to lose him. But two years. _Rose _has moved on. Why can't you?'

'I'm not Rose. Rose can do whatever she likes.' But the big shoulders hunched up, and now concern _did _enter those honest green eyes. James had, for the longest time, been jealous of his brother's eyes. He looked so much like their father, so much like the hero, that whenever the press talked about the heir to Harry Potter's mantle, they always talked about Albus. Even before Phlegethon and the Council of Thorns and the burdens that had racked and broken Albus, until James couldn't feel envy any more, only pity.

When Al continued, the falseness of his indifference was nearly tangible. 'How is Rose?'

James shrugged. 'I've not seen her since she left Hogwarts. Got a job at Gringotts, Curse Breaker. I think she's in Egypt right now.'

'Is she happy?'

'I don't know, Al. I'm not the one she speaks to. That was always you. You'd have to ask Hugo.'

Albus scrubbed his face with his hand. 'And Selena? Matt?'

'Er, Doyle might be out there with Rose. I know they got the same graduate scheme with Gringotts, couldn't swear they're on the same dig. Rourke's working for _The Clarion, _I think. I don't really know. I _do _know none of them are my brother, and none of them have been gone for two years, and none of them have been making Mum cry herself to sleep on a regular basis.'

Albus looked down. 'I can't come home, Jim. I can't deal with everyone expecting everything to be how it used to -'

'Nobody's _expecting _anything of you, Al. Look, Mum and Dad don't know I'm here, I didn't tell them _you _were here, I didn't want to get their hopes up and if Dad knew then he'd come drag you home by your ankles and I _know _that this has to be your choice…' James slumped, all the pent-up steam now leaking out the gaps. 'They just want to see you. To hear from you. To know you're okay. And you're obviously _not _okay. What the hell's going on, Al?'

'My best friend was murdered.'

'Except the way you've been acting, it's like _you _killed him.' James was being facetious. He didn't expect a flinch in response.

'I might as well have.' Albus looked away. 'James, don't think I don't appreciate you looking for me. But stop. Turn around. And _leave_. If I come back, it'll be because I _choose _to come back, and there's nothing you can say to change how I feel. You're my brother, but you don't understand, _can__'t _understand.'

'Maybe you're right. Maybe there's nothing _I _can _say._' James pulled out the folded envelope.

'What's this?'

'I do hope fighting obnoxiously evil things all over the world hasn't sapped you of the power of literacy, but I'll make it easy. It's an invitation. To Teddy and Victoire's wedding.'

Albus froze halfway to reaching for it. 'Oh.'

'Yeah. _Oh_. It's next month. And I know it would mean an awful lot to an awful lot of people if you could be there. That's why I started looking for you. I thought - you can show up, and the day's all about _them_, and it doesn't have to be about you, and maybe if it's terrible and awkward then you can leave again.'

'I don't want -'

'To hurt people by showing up and leaving? Al, you're hurting people _right now _by being gone and staying gone. I don't think you could make this any more painful.'

Albus picked up the envelope with slow, deliberate fingers, like it might turn to ash in his hands. 'How are they?'

_Now he asks_. 'Dad's been busy. Council of Thorns and all. Mum _keeps _busy, she did a spate in Morocco for the African Cup. And Lily's started her NEWTs. She wants to be an Obliviator. And they'd all do a hell of a lot better for seeing you.' James blew his fringe out of his eyes. 'As would Teddy. He's the only one who knows I'm here; nobody else knows you got an invitation because we didn't know how to _get _you one… but he asked for you specific, Al.'

Albus dropped the envelope like it burned. 'I can't, James. They'll be better off without me.'

'I really doubt it.'

'Everyone will sort out their own lives soon enough. And anyway, when did you stop being a puffed-up git more interested in Quidditch, girls, and fame?'

James was used to people trying to hit him where it hurt. He was _not _used to it from Albus. When they'd butted heads, it was on principle and belief; it was the job of _him_, James, to make cheap digs. Not Albus. Never Albus. He got to his feet, and drew his cloak around himself. The roaring fires were suddenly not quite so warming. 'When I lost my brother. You'd understand that.' This stunned Albus into silence, and he waved a hand at the envelope. 'Keep it.'

'James -'

Al was rising, too, but now the heat was stinging his eyes and he turned away. 'You just be careful, running around as an international do-gooder. If something happened to you, we'd never even know.'

James didn't wait for an answer. The locals were still giving him cautious, suspicious look as he stomped out of the tavern, into the chilly autumn air, down the darkening streets loomed over by houses shrouded in night. It was without a second look that he left, headed for the bridge and back into the forests which were soon enough all-consuming. The Portkey back to Warsaw was a long hike away, and he didn't want to be home too late.

The wolves followed him most of the way back.

* * *

><p>'Almost four thousand years old,' Matt hissed as sandstone shattered overhead, raining a fine powder down on them, 'and he's <em>breaking it<em>.'

Rose Weasley ignored him. The spells came thick and fast, and she still wasn't sure how many Thornweavers had burst into the tomb. That Castagnary and his men were breaking things was not as big a concern to her as that they were trying to _kill _them. She risked a glance around the ornately carved pillar. 'I see five. Castagnary at the back.'

'Is that five _with _Castagnary -'

'_Yes_.'

'Well, of course he's at the back.' Matthias Doyle reached for the sword hilt at his hip, nestled in a scabbard no more than an inch long. When he drew the blade, it was as long as his forearm, and the adamantium edge glistened against the lantern-light. 'Why would he be at the front when he can send his flunkeys?'

Again, Rose didn't answer. She could see the other two of their team, not fighters but researchers, cowering behind Ranisonb's sarcophagus as spells thudded into ancient walls and ruined the hieroglyphics and intricate markings so badly she could imagine Matt's future rants. But it was the spells themselves she cared about. _Exclusively Stuns, three wands only. Suppressive fire. Which means there are two not firing, which means -_

She swung out from behind her cover into the alcove against the wall, not into the line of heavy spell-fire. '_Stupefy_!'

As anticipated, there was a Thornweaver there to flank them. He managed to bring his wand up and block the bulk of the spell, not the whole effect, and staggered. His movements went sluggish, desperate, and so the next flash from her wand took his legs out from under him, leaving him a bundled, unmoving mess on the cold, stone floor.

'Cover me,' she told Matt, and lunged for the next column. The three Thornweavers throwing spells from the doorway hadn't realised she'd foiled their flanking action, and so she moved from one pillar to the next, keeping low and in the shadows. Matt was in no position to offer covering _anything_, as spells still thudded into the air around him, the masonry he was hidden behind, but so long as they thought someone was _there_…

A spell whizzed an inch past her ear. She was almost to the left of the doorway, but they'd seen her, and she ducked low to avoid the salvo of spell-fire. Bellowed commands came from deeper into the passageway, and she recognised Castagnary's voice, knew enough fractured French to understand. She was closer. She was the priority. After all, if she got too close, Castagnary might actually be in _danger_.

Rose allowed herself a thin smile, and her wand shot out. _Matt__'s going to kill me_, she thought, and hurled a pile of four thousand year-old pottery out of the corner and at the trio of Thornweavers trying to blow her to smithereens. At the yelps and crackles of protective spells, she ducked out the side, lashed out thrice at the staggering wizards. One more went down, another blocked, the third -

And the world turned upside-down as a Stun cracked through her Shield and into her shoulder. Her limbs didn't lock up, but they did stiffen, and she fell with a thud to the ground.

_Ennervate. Ennervate! _But concentrating through the effects was hell even without turning her wand on herself, without her heart trying to thud its way out of her chest at the knowledge she was a sitting duck. Light sparked at the tip of her wand, but it did nothing more than cast illumination along the wall of Ranisonb's tomb, sending jagged shadows along the hieroglyphs and reliefs retelling as-yet unknown secrets of his life, his work, his magics.

She wondered if they'd ever finish unravelling this puzzle that had consumed them the last two months.

'_Swithefy_!' That was not a spell she'd heard before, but she knew Matt's voice, heard his footsteps thudding on the sandstone slabs underfoot, and realised he'd charged the Thornweavers. Alone.

_Ennervate_! Her wand jerked at her command and she could move, think, breathe - roll to one knee, wand braced before her, just in time to see Matt crash into the enemy. The one in front had lifted a shield and looked dismissive, unperturbed that he was being charged by a man with a sword - except that sword cracked into the magical barrier, which didn't so much as sputter before the adamantium broke it.

And the blade kept going, with a force so redoubtable Rose realised Matt's spell had not been cast at the Thornweavers, but on himself. Metal met flesh and bone and the wizard who'd Shielded himself didn't manage more than a scream and a gurgle before he dropped. Even then Matt's wand, in his other hand, was moving, whipping up at the second Thornweaver with a wordless spell that blasted him into the wall with a crunch.

But Matt was out in the open doorway, and realisation bubbled in Rose's throat as she flashed her wand at him to bring up a Shield, more or less -

It was more, because the slashing curse that barrelled from the passageway didn't kill him. But there was an impact, a spurt of blood, the slashing sound of magic on flesh. Matt staggered, hand coming to his shoulder - or was it his throat - and fell like a sack of sand.

Rose didn't remember moving. The next thing she knew, she was stood over his bleeding, only weakly-stirring form, hurling a volley of spells down the tomb's passageway, the long, winding corridor that burrowed through the sands towards daylight. But down here there was only darkness and magic and death, and the only light in the corridor came from her onslaught as Adhemar Castagnary parried spell after spell with waning efficiency.

This wasn't the first time they'd met, wasn't the first time they'd crossed wands, and he had challenged her more in their pursuit for Ranisonb's tomb than in combat. An unremarkable wizard of no distinguished features and a face as bland as Rose's own cooking, she never would have taken him for one of the Council of Thorns' foremost expedition leaders. They'd learnt the hard way, over the last few months, that he could be ruthless in his choices and his tactics, but she still knew she could take him in a fight, and she was full of fight.

Castagnary swished his wand to knock her spell to one side, but his next words weren't an incantation. 'Weasley! Every second you spend trying to kill me, he's losing more blood.'

She froze, wand in a low guard, dark eyes locked on the man who'd hounded them throughout this hunt, and would hound them again if he fled. 'You're lucky it was him you fought in the Theban Necropolis, Castagnary. _He _didn't want to kill you when you were at his mercy.'

'Which I'm sure you would regret a great deal if you allowed that wound to be fatal. I have no doubt that, if you pursued, you would catch me.' He took slow steps back, deeper into the shadows of the passageway. 'But how long would it take?'

Her lip curled. 'Give my regards to Raskoph when you tell him we got to Ranisonb's tomb first.'

But Castagnary was too sensible to rise to the bait, and so all Rose got was a cheery wave of the wand in farewell as the agent of the Council of Thorns fled. She could hear his footsteps thudding down the passageway, and only when they faded did she let her wand drop. Then she rounded on Matt, and her throat closed up as she took in the growing pool of blood he lay in, only weakly stirring.

'_Matt_ -'

She didn't care that she was getting blood on her trousers, on her hands as she flew to his side, and her only source of relief was that she saw the wound had indeed been to his shoulder, not his neck. His jaw was a knot of tight muscles as he gritted his teeth through the pain, eyes wide, and when she touched the bloodied gash a choke escaped past his lips. 'Don't -'

'I've got you, it's not too deep, it's nowhere vital…' Healing spells she'd summoned to mind a thousand times came for the thousand-and-first as her wand waved over the injury. Flesh knitted together, bringing up pink skin instead of vivid red blood.

'I'm okay, it's not too…'

'Nejem, Lowsley, get over here!' To her relief, her voice came out commanding, not shaking, as she beckoned the rest of their Curse Breaker team.

Twin heads popped out from behind the sarcophagus. They were three, maybe four years her senior in age and employment by Gringotts, but they still came when called like students answering Professor Stubbs at Hogwarts, all but falling over each other to cross the tomb.

'Er, we were just, er -'

'Cowering,' Nejem cut Lowsley off. He was always the more frank of the two.

'Good. It means you didn't get your fool heads blown off.' Rose didn't look up from her work on Matt's wound, letting the magic sink deeper to the root of the injury. She had dealt with the bulk of the sliced muscle and flesh and veins, but would have to root out the curse to make sure it didn't wriggle these seams open. 'Lowsley, get me my bag; Nejem, stop the bleeding one from dying and tie them both up - and stay _still_, Matt.'

Her hand on his shoulder tightened as he tried to sit up, and he gave a low groan. 'How'd they find us?'

'I don't know.'

'Is Castagnary gone?'

'Ran. As ever.'

'You don't think he's going to block the passageway?'

'This tomb and its complex have remained intact for the last four thousand years. There is no way Castagnary can bring them down in a matter of minutes. Besides, my understanding of Ranisonb's protections is _far _superior to his.'

Matt gave a low, pained chuckle. 'You say that with such certainty.'

'Castagnary's a parasite; he just followed our trail.' Her gaze met his, the grey eyes which were gaining more focus at the healing. 'What were you _thinking_, charging them?'

His expression hardened. 'You were Stunned. I wasn't sure I could bring them down before they finished you off. The advantage of a charge is that it not only _confuses _wizards, it _distracts _them.'

'And left you open to be dropped by Castagnary.'

'It _would _be embarrassing if he'd killed me.'

But then mousey Lowsley put her bag down, and she reached into the magically-extended pack and didn't look at either of them. Lowsley ran a hand through his mop of dark hair, until the sharp voice of Nejem broke his hovering. 'Come, Lowsley, good chap; we've got ne'er do wells to truss up like the scoundrels they are.'

Rose liked Nejem more than Lowsley, even if both young wizards were more research assistants than great minds here to push their work forward. Nejem had some grasp of social nuance, and so he had granted her a few moments where she didn't have to fend off the gaze of a near-stranger before she found the solid case in which she stored her bottles, found the Blood-Replenishing Potion she pressed into Matt's hand. 'Drink. Now.'

He sat up with less difficulty, and drank the potion because he knew better than to argue. Colour rushed into his complexion within moments, though she was intent on administering at least one more before the end of the day. He coughed as he lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth. 'I'm alright, Rose. Really.'

'You will be, and only if you do as I say.' She got to her feet, swept her gaze across the four Thornweavers being wrestled into magical bindings by Lowsley and Nejem. That would be a final indignity for their failure, to be tied up by a pair of hapless academics. 'We're going to have to send word to the Cairo office.'

Matt struggled to his feet. 'We've got work to do here -!'

'The Council of Thorns knows about this location,' Rose said. 'We can re-establish some of Ranisonb's protections, but once breached they're never the same again. This isn't research to be conducted by a four-man team; now we've confirmed we've found something, Gringotts needs to send a full expedition, complete with security.'

His expression pinched, but he didn't argue. He looked at the Thornweavers. 'We hand these over to the authorities in Cairo?'

Rose shrugged. 'I say we hand them over to Gringotts. The goblins will be less kind.' She didn't trust the magical authorities in Egypt. She wouldn't have been surprised if the government had handed their team's travel details to Castagnary in the first place. Gringotts weren't above corruption or bribery, but _they _wanted Ranisonb's tomb.

Matt sighed. Ranisonb had been one of the greatest wizards of the court of Amenemhat I, and they'd been chasing his burial tomb almost since arriving in Egypt. The main Gringotts dig site was in el-Lisht, but records had given them a lead which Matt had pounced on, and the head of the expedition had granted this little team the right to chase what had been assumed to be a wild goose chase. They'd suspected they were on to more when they found records in Swenett. They'd _known _they were onto something when they'd been attacked by the Council of Thorns at the Theban Necropolis, and what had started as a desire for Rose and Matt to make their names as new Curse Breakers for Gringotts had turned into a familiar, deadly race against followers of Colonel Raskoph. She still wasn't sure why they wanted Ranisonb's tomb, but Rose took the firm stance that if the Council of Thorns wanted something, it was a duty to the world to make sure they didn't get it.

'I was looking forward to exploring this place,' said Matt, adjusting his now-torn jacket.

'We still can.'

'Like hell. If Cairo's got to send in a whole team, or if Ainsley's going to redirect people from el-Lisht; now this is a _find_, not a nothing, they'll give this to a fully-qualified Surveyor. Someone with experience. Someone who's studied Ranisonb for more than a few weeks.'

Lowsley looked up. 'He's right. Sorry, Ms Weasley, but we could have explored this place while waiting on Ainsley to send us more people. But if we've got to get security down here to keep the Council of Thorns at bay, we'll be on assistant work.'

'As ever, Lowsley,' mused Nejem, nudging his dusty glasses up his nose, 'you manage to find the cloud in every silver lining.' He looked to Rose. 'But they do have the right of it, I'm afraid. We'll be relegated to the rank-and-file before you can say "Tutankhamen".'

Rose noticed how they apologised to her, when it was Matt who was looking forlorn. She'd done her part. Thwarting the defences of Ranisonb's tomb had been her achievement, the challenge _she _had wanted to test herself against. While no doubt there would be untold secrets in this burial site, and whilst the idea of being the one to discover them did bring a small, unusual surge of anticipation to her gut, the idea of reading someone _else__'s _analysis and findings was not much less exciting. It was Matt who would want to write the papers, head the expedition, uncover all the secrets. She only cared because he cared.

'Bundle up the Thornweavers,' she said instead, 'and take some pictures. We need to be in Cairo within the hour, and it'll take me a little time to re-seal the tomb behind us.'

Matt looked across the tomb of Ranisonb, the both of them scarred and battered from the fight. 'One of the biggest finds of this expedition, our first find as Curse Breakers, from a search across Egypt, thwarting Adhemar Castagnary and his Thornweavers, no less… and I bet that prick Ainsley's going to dock us pay for letting this place get damaged.'

* * *

><p>The lights of night-clad Cairo twinkled like treasure submerged in the ocean. Gringotts unofficially owned one of the magical hotels by virtue of always filling its rooms, and from her window Rose was high enough to get a good look at the city. Once she would have found it entrancing, full of opportunity and secrets. But now it was just another city, and she'd seen dozens of those all over the world.<p>

She closed the shutters and turned back to the papers on the small writing desk. Nejem had been right; Ainsley and their superiors at Gringotts were sending a new team to Ranisonb's tomb, complete with security guards and expert surveyors with long years under their belts. Their team had the choice: they could continue as mundane excavators, helping with the research, or they could take the bonus for finding the resting place of one of the Twelfth Dynasty's greatest wizards and go home. Rose didn't care; either was work, but she knew Matt's pride balked at the idea of becoming a flunky on 'his' dig-site.

The fan whirred overhead, a buzzing interloper in her thoughts as she rifled through the missives from the office. It was a small, cramped room, the paint peeling away from the walls like it was offended by the masonry, and when she'd first stayed here in the summer, the muggy heat had been almost choking. Now they were marching onto November, and there was a pleasant breeze through her window. Which meant there was a crack somewhere, but that would be the next occupant's problem.

She rubbed her eyes. Bureaucracy was her job in the team, not because Matt or Nejem or Lowsley were lazy, but just because she'd always done it. For once she couldn't concentrate and her gaze drifted to the door. Matt had been put to bed two hours ago with strict instructions to sleep, though she knew she was fussing more than his injury necessitated. She got up and headed for the corridor anyway. The lantern hanging from the ceiling flickered, the charge in the magical light drained and in need of replenishment, and so heading for Matt's room was like moving in stop-motion, every other second a jerking advance.

_You should let him rest_, she told herself, and knocked on his door. If he didn't answer, then he was resting too deeply and needed it, but it was only nine o' clock, it was possible he'd napped -

The door swung open after a hasty scraping back of the chain, and there he stood, skin pale against his dark, dishevelled hair, but his grey eyes were bright, alert. He gave an anxious smile. 'Hey.'

'Hey.' She clasped her hands together. 'I'm not interrupting?'

'I woke up about ten minutes ago. You're never an interruption.' He stepped back and let her in, his room identical to hers except the papers on the desk were research notes, not Gringotts bureaucracy. 'You okay?'

'I confirmed with Ainsley and the head office we'll be taking the finder's fee and returning to London. I assumed you wouldn't have a problem with that.' She perched on the edge of the desk, looking to the window. His room overlooked the outskirts of the city, so there was a harsh line where light succumbed to darkness, and the stretching oblivion of Egypt beyond Cairo. He hadn't turned on the fan, so the room was filled with the city, the warmth and sound and scent like a blanket of a world so different to Britain and Hogwarts and home. But then, he wore the rest of the world like a part of him in a way she never did.

'Of course not.' Matt slipped the door back on the chain. She knew the locks would include all manner of additional magical protections, because she'd taught him hers. 'Ainsley's a hack, he's just in it for the money. I'd rather blast myself in the foot than be his excavation monkey.'

Rose swallowed a memory and nodded. 'Then we've got a Portkey to Britain tomorrow. We can let Griznak know the situation.'

'I think he'll be pleased. And _I__'m _pleased, Rose, don't get me wrong.' He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her with the faintest knot in his brow. 'Ranisonb's tomb on our first proper assignment? Ainsley didn't believe us and now it's egg on hisface. He won't get a reprimand for it, but we're establishing ourcredentials. I bet we can get our own team out of this.'

'You'd rather have that? Chasing leads and then dropping them when we find the dig-site, letting someone else do the long-term work? I thought you love poring over Ranisonb's tomb.'

'I would. But Surveyors are ten a knut in Gringotts. People who'll chase the leads, do the homework, dance through protective traps and spells, even though nothing might come of any of it? Much less competition in those departments. Once we make our names, we can _pick _our assignments. And let's face it, Rose, we've got a better idea of what it takes than half of the department.' She would have been satisfied doing the grind, taking her time, but Matt wanted it all, and he wanted it now. Considering he'd cut his teeth on one of the greatest finds of the twenty-first century, even if they'd then _lost _the Chalice of Emrys, she couldn't blame him. And she certainly wouldn't stand in his way.

She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. It had escaped the tight braid she wore these days, no-nonsense and out of the way, but today had been a frantic occasion and she hadn't cared for her coiffure. 'Do you want to keep Lowsley and Nejem? It sounds harsh when they've got years of experience on us, but I bet Griznak would let us call the shots.'

'I like them.' Matt nodded. 'Lowsley does what he's told and Nejem's down-to-earth, in a ridiculous academic sort of way. They're bright, I like doing research with them, and I think they're learning of the spirit of adventure.'

'Adventure. Sure.' She stared at the motionless fan, lips thinning to a fine line. 'How're you feeling?'

'I'm fine.' He shrugged - then winced, and had to smirk. 'That wasn't smart of me. But seriously. Castagnary doesn't have enough mojo in him to make me more than flinch.'

'He flattened you and had you bleeding out.'

'It was a sucker punch!'

She didn't move, her voice remaining flat. 'I don't care. That sword still makes you move _out _of cover.'

'I couldn't down them at range; their Shields were too strong, but nobody expects someone to come at them with a sword and collapse their magic.'

'And if that doesn't work, you're in the open, up close, and usually against superior numbers.'

'I didn't have a choice. They were going to pick you off at their leisure.'

Only now did she straighten, chin jerking up half an inch, jaw tightening. 'I didn't ask you to expose yourself like that.'

'Of course you didn't.' His eyes followed her as she started pacing, stalking closer to the door, closer to him. 'But I thought we were way past asking things like that.'

'You should have been more careful.' Her throat was closing up, a familiar, bitter taste rising, and this time she couldn't fight the quaver in her voice. 'A few inches to the left and Castagnary's spell would have been -'

'But it wasn't.' His hand caught her elbow and she froze, teetering on the brink. 'I'm okay. You're okay. Today was a win.'

'It almost wasn't.' She couldn't meet his gaze, so studied the paint peeling on the wall behind him.

'Almost doesn't hack it. Hey. Look at me.' She did, and found those grey eyes, like a sea she could swim in. The corner of his mouth curled. 'You can let go. It's done. We're okay, and we can worry about Castagnary and all that -'

_Later_, she finished silently, and the word unlocked something in her chest. Relief and anguish melded together in that eternal bittersweet cocktail, the closest she got to feeling anything which didn't punch a hole in her. But with him she could let herself drown, and so she cut him off.

Not with more arguments. But when she fell into his arms, they were open, hopeful, shrouding, and his lips on hers were like a chaser that beckoned her into the intoxicating depths. Her hand ran over his shoulder, her touch delicate as it traced the wound, and she knew the dark magic would guarantee yet another scar. But he had survived to be marked, and could once again be her harbour, the safe ground.

He cupped her chin in his hand, tilted her mouth up to deepen the kiss, and his touch drew the bubbling in her chest out as a small, involuntary noise at the back of her throat. She had to break the embrace, had to gasp for air, and words spilt out the moment they could, rushing against his lips. 'I can't lose you…'

'You won't,' he breathed, his hold on her tightening, pinning her against him, and she was all-too happy to be helpless in his arms. 'I promise you, Rosie, I'll be careful, I _promise_…'

He'd been waiting for this, she realised as she smothered his promises with another kiss. He'd known she would need to steel herself before she came to him, and he'd waited, because Matthias Doyle would wait a hundred years for her. He'd waited almost two, waited through the grief of her shattered world, helped put the pieces back together, and though he'd said nothing, expected nothing, she knew he'd hoped. And now they were here, and he could silence the screaming shards of that shattered world.

Afterwards, when she lay bundled against him and staring at that motionless fan hanging above, he nuzzled her loosened hair and murmured, 'I didn't mention, with everything. I got that flat in Cambridge.'

She frowned at the fan. 'You say, "that" flat…'

'_A _flat.' His breath caught. 'Dad helped find it, but he's paranoid on security these days. And probably souped it up. But I'm gainfully employed in a job which tries to kill me; I don't fancy living with my parents when we get back to England. The papers were waiting when we got here. Contract's signed, deposit's paid, the place is mine.' She could see where the path ahead wound, but couldn't bring herself to take leaping steps down it. So she waited until he led her further, murmuring, 'I know you don't like staying with your parents much if you can help it…'

Even though uncertainty was her stock in trade, she despised relying on it, and had to shift to look him in the eye. 'Is this an invitation for me to have drawer space, or…?'

'Or more. If you want. It could be _our _place.' Matt winced. 'I know, it feels fast after just a few months, but I don't _care _about the normal rules; there's not a damn thing about our life together that's been normal. And when weeks racing across Egypt being hunted by a crazy Frenchman is par for the course, that's saying something.'

He was starting to babble, so she silenced him with a kiss, and had to mirror his smile when she drew back. 'Cambridge. I like Cambridge.'

'I thought you would,' he murmured, and she reflected how this was as much an in-depth discussion as they ever gave these matters. The most important topics were never dissected as much as the magical protections of tombs of wizards dead for thousands of years. The decision was made, and that was that.

The beds in these hotel rooms were all creaking springs and threadbare sheets, but for a time she slept as deeply as he did, nestled in his arms. The ventures of the day, physical, emotional, psychological, were enough to exhaust her beyond dreams. So it was almost dawn when they came, as they always did, as they _especially _did after Matt had silenced them for a time, twisting visions of falling shapes and grey smoke and shimmering veils, and she woke like she always did, choking back sobs.

Matt slept too deeply to be woken, and for once she was glad of this, because she didn't want to see the shadow in his eyes which came every time he saw her torment. He meant nothing by it, was as patient as a man could be, but after over two years, she couldn't fight the guilt that she could go to bed with Matt's name on her lips and rise with a dead man's. It was better he rested. For her scars as well as his.

A full night's sleep was a fantasy after all this time, and so she greeted the dawn like she always did, sat at a desk with some book or another before her, consuming words about something, _anything_, so long as they chased back the shadows of her loss.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And thus do we begin Oblivion! As a note, I intend to be a lot better at updating here (though, yes, I do update more regularly elsewhere). Simple fact is that I do a lot of my writing in a location which for some ungodly reason wants to put FFN behind a filter, so it becomes a bloody pain in the arse to update everywhere simultaneously._

_And then I forget, which is the less-good excuse. But I should not, and shall not neglect my fine readership here!_


	2. Truth is This

**Truth is This**

The Old Rectory always did its utmost to look like it had fallen out of a postcard. In autumn the house preened, limestone walls in dazzling contrast to the opal shades of dying leaves. The season's Midas touch turned summer's green to shimmering gold, and the view from Rose's old bedroom window of the back garden was like staring into a Gringotts vault.

But she couldn't care about the view at the best of times, and right now she wasn't even going to pretend. She had to deal with her father.

'Eight months!' he was saying, stood in her door with his arms folded across his chest. 'Don't you think it's a bit soon?'

She unfolded another box, spellotaped it together, removed her cat Artemis upon her immediate lunge into said box, and looked at her bookshelf. There was a lot on those shelves she would never read again, but she couldn't bring herself to throw them away. Even if they might as well have belonged to someone else. 'If you count how long we were together the first time,' she said, stacking dusty volumes, 'it's about a year. How long were you and Mum a couple before you moved in together?'

Ron Weasley scowled. 'Four years. _Ha_.'

_Damn_. 'That's only because you had a bachelor pad with Harry. And I'm pretty sure parental disapproval shouldn't deliver its victorious blows with smug laughter.' He looked guilty, the way he did when she implied he was being a bad father, and shame flooded through her. Thankfully, Artemis was back in the box, so she could hide her expression behind the extraction of an indignant cat.

'I'm just looking out for you, Rosie. I know nothing's been normal. And I'm not really worried about it being too _fast_, I know you've known Matt for years and if it's right, it's right.' She didn't want to point out that this advice from a man who'd married his first and only love was not particularly well-informed, but then he'd sat on the bed, hands clasped before him, and she couldn't bring herself to be any more sarcastic. 'But nothing about this is simple.'

Artemis was dropped. 'Why does _everything _have to come back to Scorpius? It's been over _two years _-'

'And you still miss him,' Ron said, voice level. 'And it still keeps you up at night. And it's still _changed _you. I remember when my little girl used to laugh.'

She stood. 'I'm not a little girl any more. I haven't been a little girl since _long _before Scorpius died. And I'm a graduate of Hogwarts, I'm a Gringotts Curse Breaker, I'm nineteen. _You _weren't a kid when you were nineteen.'

'I suppose it doesn't count for much if I say that I'd wanted something different for you.'

Rose wilted at the creasing in the corners of her father's eyes. 'I'm sorry the world didn't work out that way, Dad.'

He stood and crossed the bedroom to wrap large hands around her shoulders. 'I want you to be happy. I wouldn't care if you'd known Matt five minutes if he made you happy, really happy. I just don't want to see things go sour for you.'

'Matt doesn't hurt me. He won't, he couldn't.'

Ron watched her for a moment, blue eyes trying to pierce her masks, but people who knew her better than he had tried and failed to breach her defences. 'I sometimes wonder if that's the problem.'

It was more astute than she was comfortable with, and so she pulled away, turned to the wardrobe. Artemis followed, keen at the prospect of invading dusty corners. 'I'm not leaving because of you or Mum. I want my own space, Dad, you can get that?'

'I get that. It's just a father's job to worry.'

'If you're going to worry,' she said, rifling through old clothes she'd never got around to throwing out, 'worry about international terrorists.'

'That's my _other_ job. But when they're coming for you, I take my work home. I'm still looking into this Castagnary fellow.'

'Raskoph is a loon. An intelligent, diabolical, dangerous loon, but he's a loon nevertheless, and he'll take any bid for power he can get. Gringotts has had dozens of run-ins with Thornweavers competing for old magical artifacts, either for their powers or the money they can make as a result. He wasn't chasing us because it was Matt and me; I bet Raskoph doesn't bloody _care _about the remainder of the Hogwarts Five. But he'd love anything he could get out of Ranisonb's tomb, and Castagnary's like a dog doing tricks for his master. He's amateur league.'

'I don't care if he's the Chudley Cannons of Thornweavers, he's _still_ been coming after you.'

Rose gave her father a suspicious look. 'Did you just concede the Cannons are terrible?'

'I'm _that _determined to make a point, yes.' Ron nodded sombrely. 'Though if I ever hear you say anything like that ever again, I'm disowning you.'

She sighed, and started to toss clothes out of the wardrobe and into a box. She could sort them on the other side. 'I'm careful, Dad. I'm always careful. Even you would struggle to get through my security wards.'

'I promise I won't stage a fake break-in at your new house to test this and make sure you're taking safety seriously.'

'Thank you,' said Rose, 'for not being a complete freak of nature.' She bit her lip. 'Is there any news about Albus?'

Ron flinched at the change of topics. 'The same as usual. Reports a few weeks old; if Harry chases them up, he's long gone. He was in the Azores last we heard. Mermaids haranguing ships.'

'How're Harry and Ginny?'

'Tense. Worried. Harry keeps busy, and there's always Council activity to deal with. Even if it's quietening down.' Ron shrugged. 'It sounds like Al's okay, but he's still _gone_, and after this long… I mean, everyone thought he would be back by now.' He shifted his feet. 'They don't say it. But they wonder if he'd speak to _you _-'

'I'd have to _find _him,' Rose said quickly. 'And if Harry can't find him, how am I supposed to? Besides, he won't talk to me.'

'You both -'

'No. What's going on with Al is different.' _I think_. 'And I can't begin to unravel it. Only he can sort this out, Dad. And he will.'

'After two years?'

'Time heals all injuries,' said Rose, and proved the world had a sense of irony when she reached to haul Artemis out of the wardrobe and instead pulled out the green knitted jumper.

Colour drained from the world once more, reverting faded shades to cold, stark black and white, and for a long moment she could only stand there, blood rushing in her ears, heart clawing its way out of her chest to scream and gnash its teeth and tear the world asunder.

_I__'ll come back every time _-

She shoved the jumper back in the wardrobe, expressionless, and prayed her father, the professional Auror, hadn't spotted this. 'What's the news on Raskoph?'

Ron took so long to answer that she _knew _he'd seen. 'Brazil, still. He's got full control of the Council of Thorns, though these internal power-plays have gutted the organisation. It's like they're eating their young, vying for power so wildly they'll kill themselves. They've lost _so many _big names that there's nobody to compete with Raskoph any more.'

'It's not just internal power-plays, though, is it.' Rose closed the wardrobe slowly, deliberately, and stared at it until grey turned to sepia to faded mahogany. At her feet, Artemis looked up, whiskers dusty, but she couldn't bring herself to scold the cat for her irksome explorations. 'It's Prometheus Thane.'

'We don't know that Prometheus Thane isn't working on Raskoph's orders -'

'He tried to _kill _Raskoph in April. I saw those reports, Dad. I don't know what that man's up to these days, but he's been murdering his way through some of the biggest names of the Council of Thorns, and Raskoph was almost on that list.'

Ron sighed. 'It _is _the opinion of the Auror Office and the IMC that Prometheus Thane has gone rogue, yes. He gutted the higher echelons of the Council, and it looks like it was only dumb luck that saved Raskoph in Panama. Then again, he also killed Romano Vida in May, so he's clearly not on _our _side if he's going to target major faces in the IMC. We're still treating him as just as much of a threat as the Council.'

'No, you're not.' She turned to face him, and by now her chest was still and silent, the howling only an echo. 'You're not going to pour as many resources into hunting him down so long as he's doing your job for you and fighting the Council.'

'Don't say "you" like that,' Ron admonished. 'Thane's not been spotted in Britain since Phlegethon. The Auror Office has nothing to do with hunting him. Hell, the IMC doesn't have anything to do with hunting him any more. Believe it or not, Rose, things are starting to return to normal. Lillian Rourke's talking about disbanding the IMC come the year's end if things continue in this vein. The International Magical Convocation's become nothing more than a means of governmental liaising, and at this stage it's better if it's the law enforcement bodies coordinate than legislative branches.'

'So we'll let Thane run riot? Let Raskoph warp South America -'

'We will _not_,' said Ron. 'But my entire job, your mother's entire job, the entire _Ministry_, has spent the better part of three years with one focus: fighting the Council of Thorns. The security legislation, the extensions of Enforcer and Auror authority, the restrictions on international trade and travel - that's not as necessary any more. The Council of Thorns will be brought down and brought to justice, but we can manage to not live and breathe them in everything every government in the world does.'

Her shoulders sagged as his words thudded into her, and she hid her expression by setting about closing and labelling every one of the boxes now littering her old bedroom.

Ron watched her, and gave a guilty sigh. 'I'm sorry, Rosie. I don't mean to snap. But the world's moving on.'

'I know it is,' she said. 'And I'm trying to, too, but you're questioning that!'

For a moment he didn't say anything, and she heard the shuffle of his feet. 'Your boss was pleased about Egypt?'

'In so far as a goblin can be. Yes. We've got a few weeks off, but Matt's putting in the request for us to get our own team. I think Griznak's going to go for it.'

'Good. We're really proud of you, you know, Rosie.' Her father sounded gruff, awkward, like he always did when he was trying to be affectionate and wasn't sure if he was being overbearing. 'And I know I fuss, but I'm your father, I'm supposed to. If you're good in your work, and if Matt makes you happy, then I'm not going to question that. I'll support you, whatever you do. And I'm glad your job's giving you these weeks off in Britain. Victoire really wants everyone together for the wedding. It's been too long.'

'And I'm looking forward to it. Really. I've not seen Victoire in - God knows how long.'

Ron brightened at that. 'Then come to Sunday lunch at your grandmother's. She and Teddy will be there, and Harry and Ginny, and I so said _we__'d _come - I bet they'd love to see you. Bring Matt. Scare him with the wider family.'

'Grandma is the _least _scary wider family imaginable.'

'Yeah, I know. It'll lull him into a false sense of security so I can corner him.' Her father grinned toothily, and she couldn't help but return the smile, even if the reflection lost power. 'It's the least I can do if he's trying to sweep my little girl away to some sordid pad of depravity.'

'It's _Cambridge_, Dad.'

'Fine. Some swanky pad of depravity.'

She had to laugh, because her father could always make her laugh, and that brought colour creeping back into the world, even though her gaze kept flickering back to the wardrobe in which sat, shoved to the back of the closet like it was shoved to the back of her mind, the knitted green jumper.

* * *

><p>'If there is anything more we can do -'<p>

'No. Thank you. All has been good.' They both spoke Russian, and neither of them very well, because the Elder's Russian was better than his English and Albus spoke absolutely no Polish. 'You have been very kind.'

The corners of the Elder's eyes creased, and he shook his head. 'You were here before the government was. More would have died without you. Food and somewhere to stay is yours, for as long as you need.'

'Thank you,' Albus said again, because it was one of the phrases he could pronounce with any reliability, and because he wasn't sure what else to say. It had been three days since James's visit, and he had yet to leave the village magically hidden in the depths of Poland's Białowieża Forest. Normally he didn't linger so long after a job. Normally he did what he came to do, rested as long as he needed to recover from injuries, and then moved on. Else the gratitude of the locals would feel too much like making roots. 'But it is time for me to go.'

The Elder inclined his head, and cold autumn sun shone through the single-paned window to paint his grey hair silver. Albus had paid for this room in the inn for the first two nights, even if it was a prison of cold, creaking wooden boards. Once he'd hunted down the first feral werewolf, the innkeeper had tried to refund him; Albus had refused _that_, but he'd accepted free board so long as he was doing the village the service it needed. Scorpius' money remained abundant but wouldn't last him forever. Still, he'd only take these kinds of offers so long as he was doing something to earn his keep. Now he was threatening to out-stay his welcome.

'Where will you go?' said the Elder at last, and Albus winced.

'South, I think,' he blurted, and paused to gather his words. 'I will go to Africa. Starting at Turkey.' _Rose is in Egypt_, he remembered, and resolved to not go to Egypt.

'There is need of you?'

Albus looked to the window, to the depths of the Polish forest that sprawled with darker and deeper horrors than even he'd expected to see. Rural eastern Europe was no easy place for witches and wizards to live. He understood why the villagers took precautions to protect themselves which made Diagon Alley look like it was on the main London maps. 'There will be work. There is always work.'

The Elder crossed the room to grasp his hand, part-clasp, part-shake. 'You are always welcome here, Albus Potter. You always have a place here.'

_I have a place nowhere_. But he shook the Elder's hand with both of his, forced a smile, and said, 'Thank you.' Because it was the easiest thing to say.

The Elder left, ostensibly so he could get on with his packing. Albus had spent the last two years living out of the battered leather rucksack he'd picked up in Montenegro, and he wasn't Rose. He could only magically expand it a little. It was still big enough to contain all of his worldly belongings; the battered and heavy clothes which provided protection as much as warmth, the smattering of books on magic, monsters, and rituals which came in handy in his line of work, the few pieces of equipment to augment his magic. The road was no place for a full set of luggage.

He was already packed, but instead of leaving he crossed to the window, draughty with the cool autumn breeze dragging itself through the cracks, and in the mid-morning sun he for the umpteenth time read the wedding invitation.

It was just a wedding invitation. They were never long and they were rarely personal, and this one was not. The calligraphy was perfect, though, and that said as much as Albus needed to know. This was no contrivance, no trick from James. Maybe Victoire had known and maybe she hadn't, but Teddy at least had sat down when the invitations were arranged and made sure there was one made just for him. The unwritten message was as plain as the ink.

_Come home_.

Albus sighed and shoved the envelope back inside his leather jacket. 'I'm sorry,' he breathed, and jumped with an instinct that had his wand in his hand and levelled at the door when there was a knock. It took him a moment to slow his breathing, to slip his wand up his sleeve in case he'd still need it. 'Come in.'

The innkeeper, at least, spoke English, and wore an apologetic expression. 'I'm sorry, Mister Potter. But there is a visitor for you.'

Albus' expression pinched. 'The same man as before?'

'No. Another. My height, red hair.'

_That narrows it down exactly not at all. _He sighed. 'That was inevitable. Send him up, please.'

He was expecting a cousin, though he wasn't sure which one. The innkeeper was too short for it to be Uncle Ron, who was the most likely person after his father to come to drag him back by the ankles; Ron would at least do it with an apology and a smile.

Uncle George was not the last person Albus expected to walk through the door. But Uncle George wasn't someone he ever really thought about. He ducked into the gloomy, dusty bedroom, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave that half-smile Albus recognised from James sometimes. 'Hullo, Al.'

'What're _you _doing here?' Albus blurted before he could stop himself.

'A fine welcome. Top manners. Your mother would box your ears.' But George's voice was light, airy as he wandered in and shut the door behind him without invitation. 'Jim told me. Good lad, Jim. Conscientious.'

Albus gritted his teeth. 'He said he wasn't going to tell Mum and Dad.'

'And he didn't. Like I said, conscientious lad. But you know, he's become a bit of a suck-up the last couple years. He always used to be up for a laugh. Now he runs around like he's got to be all responsible. I think your dad's finally getting to him.' George looked about the room, and in the end settled for perching himself on the edge of the creaky bed. His jacket was worn, his boots muddy. He had to have taken the long hike to find the bridge. 'This is a nice place. I can see why you've stayed.'

'I've only been here a week or two. I'm not staying.'

'Oh, the life of an international man of mystery never can wait. I take it you're not back to Blighty, though?'

Albus leaned against the window-frame. 'There's nothing for me there.'

'No, you're right.' George clicked his fingers. 'Just your family. Who miss you. My sister, who's terribly upset. Your dad, who's been running around like a bear with a bad head, and while that's made him a right _terror _against the Council of Thorns, that's not fun and games for the Potter household.'

'My family has never been the picture of sweetness and light everyone, from the Weasleys to the _Daily Prophet_, likes to pretend it is. I'm not responsible for everyone's damage.'

'You're not. I think they're responsible for _your _damage, actually. It's what your family does when there's trouble. You cut and run and you go to other people, instead of sticking together.' George reached into his coat and rustled about the pockets before he pulled out a packet. 'Boiled sweet?'

'What? No. Why're you here?'

'To see you. I don't tromp around the forests of Poland for my health_. _I hear there are feral werewolves out here. Terrible business.' George unwrapped a sweet noisily, and looked him up and down. 'I see it's done wonders for _your _health. You've got muscles on top of muscles now. Though you forgot how to shave and your hair's a mess. I don't care, me, I'm just saving you a right telling off from your mum.'

'Mum -'

'Would tell you to stop dressing so shabby and to get cleaned up. Your _Gran _would have a fit; you're lucky Ginny grew up with Fred and me, or she'd have ended up just as wound up as her.'

Albus exhaled slowly. He'd never known how to handle Uncle George. The Weasley family had forever seen a strong divide between the serious-minded and the pranksters, and the latter was both larger and more united. George was their commander-in-chief, so he'd always had a closer bond with James, with Lily and Hugo, with his son Freddie. He'd never been cruel, had always been good-natured in his jokes and his mockery and never pushed it too far, but all Albus had known to do for years was just laugh along. Not join in or joke back.

Of all his family, George was the one who had least reason to come for him.

'I'm not going to the wedding,' said Albus. 'Aside from anything else, I don't want to distract from the day by showing up and causing a calamity.'

'Poppycock.' George popped a sweet in his mouth. 'That's a good word. I should use it more often. Teddy and Victoire would be pleased as punch if their wedding was punctuated with the calamity of your return. And even if they _weren__'t, _you've got weeks until the wedding. You could come home sooner and get all of that drama over and done with. So nobody's going to gasp and fall over when you walk in at the ceremony, as they're _supposed _to do that at the bride.'

'It's not a -'

'The only reason you're staying away, Al, is _you_.' George stabbed a finger at him, gaze sobering. 'Your fear, your hurt. Not for other people. And that's fine, but don't act like you're martyring yourself by staying away. They want you back far, far more than they're angry at you. They're angry because they're afraid and because they're upset, and even if they _do _yell, they'll probably burst into tears and hug you halfway through.'

Albus looked away, back to the sprawling dark forests beyond the village outskirts. A man could lose himself in those forests, he thought. Run with the wolves for a time.

It was tempting.

When he returned his gaze to George, his uncle's expression was firm, hard, though the effect was ruined a little by his voracious sucking on the boiled sweet. 'Why did you come here?'

'To see -'

'Why did _you _come? Why did James tell _you_? Why not Ron, or Bill?'

George paused at that, breaking the silence by crunching on and swallowing the boiled sweet. 'I was enjoying that,' he muttered, but his gaze sobered. Apparently this answer was too important for sweets. 'James came to me because out of everyone, I'm the one who understands what you're going through.'

Albus frowned. 'I don't -'

'Fred was my brother. My twin. The other half of me.' George stood, and then he wasn't the funny uncle who owned a joke shop and always gave the best Christmas presents and seemed to like Al's wittier, more light-hearted siblings more. He was a grieving man with war-wounds as rough and raw as they'd been twenty-five years ago. 'We did everything together. Opened a business together. Made every joke together. Losing him was like losing a part of myself.'

Albus dropped his gaze. 'Scorpius wasn't my brother.'

'Yes, he was. Because there are brothers and there are _brothers_. I love Percy, but he's no Fred, and that's a terrible thing to say but it's true and I'm not ashamed of it.' George padded across the creaking room to join him slumped against the window. 'You take after your father, but in the ways which make you a pain in the arse. I know you struggled to find your place. James was the poster-child for the new generation. Full of hope and humour. But you walked around like you had the burdens of the bloody world on you, even when you were eleven, and it didn't help that you were a terrible twosome with Rose, who was the _fussiest _child I ever met. And I know that cut you off from the rest of the family.'

'I love James.'

'And I love Percy, but you've seen us at Sunday lunches.' George shook his head. 'You should have seen Ron when your first letters from Hogwarts came and you gushed about your new friend Scorpius. I mean, he was fine, but he plays up how much of a big deal it is, and I think he was being melodramatic to wind your dad up. Harry, of course, fussedabout it. But I, and all of them, saw a different kid come back for those first Christmas holidays.'

Albus frowned. 'You did?'

'You had a _place_. A best friend who was all yours, not part of this wider family, not part of our baggage and our craziness.' George shrugged. 'Sorry. I might be the joker, but you know what divides a good joker from a _great _joker? Knowing how to read people. A joker who's only amusing himself becomes obnoxious. A joker who knows his audience will become astonishing.'

Albus ducked his head. 'You lost your brother, your twin. I don't -'

'There's no competition on grief.' George punched him on the shoulder. 'There's no entitlement. You lost your best mate, and Rose lost her boyfriend, and Draco Malfoy lost a son, and I care about two of those three people. I don't know how to help Rose.'

'But you know how to help me?'

George hesitated. 'There are no magic words. You will miss him. Rose will move on; she will love new people and marry some toff and she'll always hear his jokes at the back of her mind, but it'll be _different_. You've lost a part of you, and you will miss him every fucking day, until it chokes and drowns you and you think you'll die, but you know what? You don't die.'

Albus slumped. 'I know I don't die.'

'And I bet that running across the world doesn't make you choke less.'

'It doesn't -' _It means I don__'t have to face the people I failed._

'There was only one thing I found which worked,' said George in a low, sombre voice. 'Living. And family. I wasn't the only one grieving. Mum and Dad and all my siblings and Angelina - maybe I was the centre of that storm, but we were all caught in it. We didn't get _better_. When you lose a leg, the leg doesn't grow back. But you maybe get a peg-leg and it's pretty shit but you learn how to hobble around, and sometimes you can dress up like a pirate and have a good laugh.'

'It's not -' Albus stopped, then the words tore up his throat. 'It's more complicated, George, it's not just that I lost him, I got him _killed _-'

George's hand clasped his shoulder. 'The Council of Thorns got him killed -'

'No, no, you don't understand, _nobody _gets it, they found us because _I trusted her_ and he wouldn't be _dead _if I hadn't been such a stupid, useless -'

'Hey!' Both hands came up, and now there was none of the joker in George's eyes or demeanour, but the harsh, firm voice of a survivor. 'They did it. Not you. You were his friend, you were his _brother_. And you _can _survive this, but hiding out here doesn't make it better, and I can promise you - I can bet you the next ten years of my profits - that your parents want to see you way, way more than they want to be angry with you.' Albus hesitated, and a small smile tugged at George's lips. 'If James can get over being jealous of you enough to beg you to come back, I think your parents can forgive you. You didn't do this, Al. The Council did this. But the more this goes on, the more this _is _you hurting everyone. Including yourself.'

Albus couldn't meet his eyes. 'What the hell am I supposed to do? Just walk up to the door and knock?'

_And pretend like it__'s not my fault, like I didn't as good as kill him, like my stupid sense of honour didn't hand him over to the Council and sign his death warrant…_

'Yeah,' said Uncle George, and clapped him on the shoulder. 'It's easy. I'll even give you a good knock-knock joke.'

* * *

><p><em>AN: The Bia__łowieża Forest is a real place (like, my Polish is so non-existent I would not make up that name). It spans the borders of Poland and Belarus and is one of the largest ancient woodlands in Europe. I figured somewhere that vast and undisturbed would make for a pretty logical place for magical settlement, especially for the stereotypical 'things which go bump in the night in Eastern Europe' sort of environment._

_I feel lost and forlorn without my lengthy, self-indulgent Author__'s Notes on my butchery of history. It's like we don't talk any more, guys. Er, I promise we get Selena next chapter? Will that do?_


	3. Barren Ribs of Death

**Barren Ribs of Death**

'So when you were looking for a place to live, did you set up a contest for "most twee city in Britain"?' John Colton stopped at the flower stand, blooming bright and colourful even on this drizzly October afternoon. 'We're at a _market_, Matt. On cobbled streets with people wearing silly hats. Those shops over there have dangling signs. House which are all black-and-white…'

'Timber framing.' Matt tightened his scarf and tugged on his black gloves. Even at this time of year, Egypt had been warm. Returning to England was like plunging into a cold bath, and a fit of childish conviction that he was an adult had seen him throwing out all his old winter clothes and blowing a sizable chunk of the finder's fee for Ranisonb's tomb on a new wardrobe. He wasn't a dandy. He just liked looking good. And there were some matters on which John wouldn't judge him. 'Besides, Cambridge is one of the oldest wizarding cities in the country -' John arched an eyebrow, and he pressed forward. 'I mean it! Before the Statute there was a significant magical community here.'

'Hence why this part of town looks like Diagon Alley threw up all over it. I blame the university.'

'Yes - University Hall originally had quite a lot of wizards in attendance, though of course as the Statute came in and the college changed… you don't care.' Matt threw a hand in the air.

'On the contrary. I grew up with this place as synonymous with intellectual excellence; it's rather satisfying to know both my worlds colluded to create it. I'm more surprised _you _care.'

'I'm a Curse Breaker. History's now my _profession_.'

His friend pulled his wide-brimmed hat low against the rain-scattered breeze as they stepped out of the row of stalls. The market had looked promising from the outside, but didn't sell much more than flowers and fruit and veg and stands offering pig in a bun, and Matt realised that what was a quaint novelty to him was of very little excitement to his Muggle-born best friend. They were better off cutting this rather damp walk short and returning to the new flat.

John wasn't as tall as him, but was a little broader. He cultivated his body and looks more, from the black hair swept back from his face to accentuate dark eyes, high cheekbones, a small beard he'd had to grow into, to the somewhat foppish clothes he made sure he filled well; even to his cultured, upper-class tones. But after eight years of friendship, Matt knew to not take the flighty appearance of an uncaring dandy at face value.

'Your father's a good egg for sorting this place out for you,' John said as they left the broad square to proceed down slippery cobbled streets flanked by tall buildings so old Matt could almost smell the history.

'Dad's gone a bit security mad. The moment he heard I was interested, he took the entire thing over. Checked the flat out, paid the deposit, got his own people in to soup it up. I can't argue with him, though, can I, not when I _was _attacked in Egypt.'

'Does rather guarantee paranoia, doesn't it. But I thought they were more vexed by your work, than after you _personally_.'

'They were. But I'm not the one you need to convince.'

'Either way, I'm certain Rose will like it.'

'I hope so.'

John gave him a sidelong glance. 'So everything's hunky-dory with you two, I take it? Moving in together, hrm? Awfully serious.'

Matt drew a deep breath. He could read between his best friend's lines. 'I don't need any more of this.'

John slowed a little, letting Matt lead the way as they reached a crossroads. This had the convenience, Matt observed, of letting John fall half a step behind so he couldn't see his expression. 'Any more of what?' The innocence was not convincing. 'All I'm ever doing is looking out for you, you _know _that.'

'We've been through this -'

'Yes, except that was _then_, and this is _now_, and now you're asking her to move in with her. Something that outrageous, I thought it would only be fair if I warned you.'

Matt stopped at the rain-slicked corner and turned back. 'Warn me?'

John halted, too, and glanced around as if they were about to discuss deep, magical secrets - but this was a quiet road, the rain driving people, magic or Muggle, inside unless they had dire need to venture out, and it had certainly killed the market. 'She's changed.'

'We've _all _changed -'

'Since you came back. Not from Egypt, from _everything._ You remember what she was like; it's what made you so maddeningly mad about her. How she'd more-or-less _hum _with enthusiasm and, well, a certain pompous self-importance, but she was growing out of that and she only berated me _sometimes_. Then Malfoy happened.' John looked unusually serious, brow furrowed at Matt.

'Yes. She lost someone important to her.'

'She lost more than him, Matt. She's not the same person she was when you two were fifteen and stupid and, yes, God take me, happy.'

'I never said she was! I've changed, too!'

John gave him a look Matt could read well. It said: _You poor fool_. 'I still _recognise _you. Rose, I hardly know at all, and I've been living with her the past two years, too.'

Matt squared his shoulders, stabbed an accusing finger. 'Just because she's different doesn't mean this relationship doesn't work -'

'It appears to _work_, I just worry if it _should_,' said John, as airy and calm as ever, even in the face of frustration. 'Or how long it will. She's quieter, more withdrawn, more controlled, less _feeling_. And she clings to you like flotsam in a storm.'

'I'm okay with that. I'll support her. I'll stand by her - I've done that _all along_.'

John's gaze flickered to Matt's hand. 'Does she know about that?'

'About what -'

'About that ring, about why your father funds where you live, about the letters you write, about the trips you take which _aren__'t _for Gringotts. Please don't pretend _I__'m _a fool as well, Matt, we don't insult each other like that. But _she _is singularly distracted.'

Matt's jaw tensed. 'I don't see what that has to do with us.'

'I'll take that as a "no," and if you don't see a problem with keeping a vast and dangerous secret from your girlfriend then there's honestly not much more I can say.' John let out a slow breath. He didn't seem frustrated, but considerate, like he knew he was going to have to reassess his strategy. 'I should put this more simply. Do you love her?'

'I do. I _always _have.'

'Well, yes, stupid question.' Being a good friend, John didn't comment on the melodrama. 'Does she love you?'

Matt flinched as if struck. 'She hasn't - she needs time -'

'It's been two years; what were you waiting for, an ice age? And now you're moving in together.' John watched as Matt worked his jaw wordlessly, then took a step forward. 'I know you, and I know where this is going; you're going to hitch your star to hers until she goes supernova, and you'll be a damned fool and _let _the blast obliterate you.'

'I really don't need,' Matt spat, 'advice on women, _especially _from _you_.'

That _did _stop John short. His expression barely shifted except for the slightest raising of an eyebrow, and that's how Matt knew he'd gone too far. 'You need to remember that I'm trying to help you, even if you don't like what I've got to say.'

Matt swallowed. 'Look, I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it -'

'I got enough of those funny, funny jokes from Hedley and Willoughby last year, which you know _full _well. You're tired, you're stressed, and you know I'm bloody well right. So I'll let you get to your new home and wait for her. I just have one more thing to say.' John took a step forward. 'Is she where I think she is right now?'

'John -'

'I'll take that as a yes. You better head off home, Matt. Before I actually get angry.'

He never raised his voice. That was what Matt remembered most, other than his own ill-considered words to the friend who had been so perpetually patient with him. But while John was slow to anger, Matt knew his fury was all the worse for it, and when he went cold like this he was _particularly _upset. So Matt left, sloped down the slick cobbled streets of Cambridge, headed for the new flat.

It was a stately, red-bricked building, the entire complex owned by wizards who kept interests in the city of Cambridge when the Statute had forced them to change their ways. Ivy crept around the trellised windows and door-frame, and he could see the window to the new flat, the one his father had ensured with professional diligence was warded and secure beyond anything the Council of Thorns could easily throw at him.

It was pretty, and so was Cambridge, but Matt realised with a sinking feeling that this was not why he'd selected it. As he'd read more, he'd found the history interesting, but he was a Curse Breaker. He _always _found history interesting. There were all manner of places in the country he could have lived, and if he were alone, he wouldn't have minded staying at his parents' house while his work continued to fling him about the globe. It meant he'd have somewhere warm to come back to.

But he'd wanted a space with Rose. And so he'd chosen somewhere he'd thought _she__'d _like.

The problem was, he was less sure these days what she even liked.

* * *

><p>After his death, there had been a debate whether Methuselah Jones should be buried at Hogwarts. It would have made him the first student to be buried on the grounds. Many had been slain there in the wars, but Methuselah Jones had consciously and willingly sacrificed himself for the sake of the school and everyone in it. But before the arguments could swing too far either way, his parents had made different arrangements to avoid any conflict, and so he was laid to rest near Glastonbury, in one of the oldest magical cemeteries in the country.<p>

His was a simple tombstone, devoid of intricate decoration, because a boy like Methuselah Jones was never going to be from a family prone to ostentatious displays. But after almost three years, the granite was worn and weathered, especially on a day like today, when the wind howled in from the tor and the rain lashed at her face.

Rose lingered by his grave, like she always did. He deserved her respects, her tribute, even if he was not the reason she was here. Even if she had never been close to Methuselah, even if she'd only shed tears once in shock and horror and then squared her shoulders and moved on with her life. At the least, she could pay him her respects for the sake of Selena, whose world _had _been turned upside-down by his death.

_But she righted it. So it can be done. Can__'t it?_

She lingered because Methuselah deserved it, she lingered because he had been her friend, and she lingered because his death had shaken those close to her. But above all, she lingered because it delayed those agonising moments where she'd take three brisk steps to the left, to the next tombstone.

This was not a grave. A grave required a body, and there had been no body. This was only a marker, a memorial, a fabrication so they could _pretend _there was something to see, to say goodbye to, to pay their respects to. She might as well have hammered a piece of paper to her wall bearing the name, for all this block of stone was worth.

Such a marker was the price they'd paid for being able to see it at all, for it not being nestled away in a corner of the grounds of Malfoy Manor, where only the 'right' people could see it. She, the half-blood daughter of his father's enemies, would have never been the 'right' person, and the fact that Scorpius would have burnt down the Manor before she was stopped from seeing him would not have mattered one jot to Draco Malfoy.

It was more ostentatious, of course, because his father had paid for it. Twin snakes carved in granite wound together at the top of the marker, bracketing and protecting this memorial to their fallen son, above whose name was the family sigil and the words, _'Sanctimonia Vincet Semper.'_

_Purity Will Always Conquer._

But she didn't reflect long on the Latin, because her gaze landed on the name, the name that sent a shattering hammer blow into the walls around her pain every time she saw it, heard it, thought of it.

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy  
><em>_November 19th, 2006 - June 12th, 2024_

The wind howled down from the tor again, and brought with it a gust of leaves from the cemetery's trees that scraped along the rows of tombstones like the grasping fingers of the dead, ardent to be heard one more time. Except that was just her imagination, because the only one who could do the talking here was her.

'Hi,' she breathed, and her voice felt for the first time in months like _hers_. 'I'm sorry I've not been around. I was - there was work. Egypt. With Gringotts. It took a while. And the Council were there, and - I'm okay, we're okay. We beat them. Of course.'

Scorpius' tombstone said nothing.

'It's tough work, and they don't take us seriously yet, but they're going to. And I like it. The work, I mean. It keeps me busy, it's not uninteresting, and I feel useful. I need to feel useful. I need to _be _useful. Maybe it's not my first choice of job, but it's as good as anything and it's familiar ground and I -'

The excuses stuck in her throat, and she could almost imagine the quirked eyebrow, the amused lip-twitch at her evasion. Only in her mind's eye there was a hint of accusation, and she couldn't look at his name now, wrapping her arms around herself and dropping her gaze. 'Matt asked me to live with him. I'm moving in. We're - it's going well. He's patient. He listens. He gives me space. He's letting me work through this. He wants me to be better, and I - and I want to be better.

'I mean it.' Her gaze flickered back to the tombstone as if it scoffed at her words. 'I can be happy with him. I can be myself. He doesn't judge me, he doesn't push me.'

_And that__'s a good basis for a relationship._

'What else am I supposed to do?' she demanded of the silent, judging lump of rock. 'Keep on walking around like I'm cut in half? At least I'm not Al! I'm not still _running _and hurting the people I care about! I'm doing the best I can but you're not _here_, so what the _hell _am I supposed to do except try to get on with my _life_?'

She'd thought she was done shouting at the tombstone, but she hadn't visited in months, since just before she and Matt left for Egypt. She'd thought getting away from Hogwarts, from her old life, might do some good. She'd been able to steel herself, reform herself into something more professional, more in control.

Only everything had been waiting for her when she came back.

_No. You__'re better than this. You've __**been **__better than this for months now, __**find **__that_. Rose drew a deep breath, brought in all the ice in the cold winds around her, and scrambled to rebuild those walls which no longer just kept the world at bay, but filled her bones and heart to keep her upright.

'I have no choice,' she told the tombstone of Scorpius Malfoy. 'I have to live. I, unlike Al, choose to live. And I refuse to feel guilty for living. You're dead. You're gone. And I… need to stop coming back here to justify myself to a lump of rock.' That springy lock of hair had lunged its way free in the tugging grasp of the wind, and, expression setting, she tucked it back into her plait. 'I'm moving in with Matt. I'm moving on with my life. And I think it's best I stop coming back here, because this is _wallowing _as certainly as Albus' running is wallowing. And I refuse to wallow.'

She took one step forward, reached out a hand that was, for once, steady, and brushed her fingertips against the carving of his name. 'Goodbye, Scorpius.'

She left with the words still tingling on her lips, and locked the quaver in her voice away with the quaver in her heart, behind the walls she'd so diligently built up for two years and refused to see undone by five minutes in a cemetery.

The wrought-iron gates were warded to shroud the site from view and attention of nearby Muggles, so saturated by the inherent magic of the region that after a thousand years they barely needed maintaining. But those protections meant she couldn't Apparate directly from the grounds, so there she headed, coat wrapped around herself as if she could ward off the cold just as effectively as she was warding off the grief.

The rain and wind made her keep her head down, so she didn't see the other visitor until she'd almost walked into them. And then she wished she'd had enough warning to dive behind a mausoleum, stopping short with surprise choking her throat until she managed a stifled, 'Mister Malfoy.'

She had not seen Draco Malfoy since the initial dedication of the tombstone, and they had not talked. The crowds had been large, because the press had sensationalised Scorpius even more after his death, to the extent the rest of the Hogwarts Five might as well have not existed - for which Rose was grateful, as without Albus around she knew she, the daughter of war heroes, would have received the lion's share of attention. They had stood at opposite sides of the ranks, Draco next to his estranged wife and his mother and further cohorts of the extensive ranks of pureblood society who came because a scion of the House of Malfoy had fallen.

Across from him, flanked by her mother and Matt, she hadn't paid him much attention. But she'd seen enough to now realise he'd aged maybe ten years in the last two, his hairline in full retreat, his face gaunt and eyes sunken. He had not just lost a son, but the continuation of his line, and what little attention she'd paid to mentions of him over the last two years, four months, had suggested he'd spent most of the time out of the country, worrying about his business interests.

And now he was here, and looked no happier to see her than she was him. 'Miss Weasley.' He managed a stiff nod. 'I presume you were paying your respects.'

'I - just got back from Egypt.' Why she was explaining herself to a man who had been nothing but rude to her, she wasn't sure. Courtesies drilled in by her mother rose to the forefront in times of uncertainty. 'I thought it appropriate, one last time.'

Something in his expression twitched. 'Last?'

She swallowed. 'It's been so long that regular visits aren't… so necessary.'

She would have sworn he relaxed. 'I see. You have that luxury, of course.'

_Luxury- _Indignation was walled up with grief and guilt, and the ice set her expression to neutral. 'This is not a grave, but a memorial. I don't need it to remember him.'

Draco inclined his head. 'As you say. Your life goes on.'

Rose didn't care about the contradiction of resenting his accusation that she was moving on, when she'd just yelled at Scorpius' tombstone that she was moving on. 'We have our own ways, Mister Malfoy. This tombstone is, of course, your way, because he would never have approved of such a memorial.'

Draco's brow knotted. 'He was my son -'

'_Purity Will Always Conquer_? You think those are words he would want stamped above his name for all eternity?'

'You can choose to believe you knew him better because of a short, childish tryst, but my son would have remembered his duty -'

'His _duty _was to his friends, and the world, and _that _was the duty he died for, Mister Malfoy. Not for you. One olive branch extended before his death isn't his _forgiveness _for what you did to him over the years, and I _know _what you did to him, I _helped _him through that crippling self-doubt!' She kept a tight rein on the anger, harnessed it like she'd learnt to over the years, and could not stamp out the flash of satisfaction at getting to unleash it.

And then Draco Malfoy's face sank as she battered him with all of his sins against his dead son, and satisfaction snapped back like a snake to sink its vicious fangs of guilt into her gut. He did not retaliate. He did not defend himself. He simply inclined his head once again and said, in a gruff voice, 'Good day, Miss Weasley.'

Then he left, marching through the wrought-iron gates in the depths of the cemetery, though he took a sharp left instead of the route to Scorpius' tombstone, walking off anger and hurt before he would pay his regards.

Rose's breath hissed between her teeth, furious and regretful and then furious that she was regretful. But there was nothing for it. She didn't want to discuss this further, and she needed to go, Apparate to Cambridge, spend her first proper evening in this _home _Matt was trying to build for them, and let his efforts pay off for them both. Two years had passed. _Somebody _needed to be happy.

She just wasn't sure if anyone was.

* * *

><p>'Victory is mine, and all should pay tribute of at least one delicious cupcake,' Selena Rourke crooned as she walked through the main office of the <em>Clarion<em>. Jealous gazes of lesser journalists were dismissed with a wave of the hand brandishing her blazing, condemning papers, for they were not worth her time. Despite her march of triumph, there was only one person she _really _needed to talk to.

The editor's door was pushed open with much fanfare and no knocking. But she was the star of the moment. He could make time. 'Oh, _Toby_…'

Tobias Grey, editor of the _Clarion_, thinned his lips as he killed a Floo conversation mid-sentence to regard one of his newest hirelings. 'Selena. You know, traditionally, junior reporters - in fact, anyone - doesn't barge into the editor's office…'

'I am unbound by tradition. I am a storm of success and hard-hitting journalism.' She waltzed to his desk and tossed the papers down. 'Also, I know you were only on the Floo to your wife, and I figured you'd want to see this.'

Grumbling, Tobias went to his desk and picked up the stack. 'I told you before. I need something _utterly _condemning before I can put in print those accusations against Pudley Limited.'

Selena lifted a mock-ponderous finger to her lips. 'Oh. Yes. How about three separate sources confirming bribes were paid to the customs officers in Italy, corroborated by some _very _dubious shiftings about their finances?'

The frown fled her boss's face, and he nudged his glasses up his nose, eyes brightening with genuine interest now. 'You got to the accountant?'

'I got to the accountant's incredibly bored assistant. We went shopping. In _Milan_. I'm putting the expenses through to you.' She sank onto the hard-backed chair across from his. 'I admit that I don't know what it means, but Pudley Limited have been opening up all sorts of curious warehouse spaces off the books and bribing customs officials to get _something _into the country.'

'And in bulk, too.' Tobias rifled through the papers. 'There's not a whiff of what?'

'Unfortunately, disgruntled customs officials and an accountant's assistant know about unmarked boxes and money passing through the hands of people it shouldn't. It's harder to get solid facts on the hows and the whats.'

'It is.' The editor of the _Clarion _was a tall, distinguished-looking wizard, blond hair going grey at the temples, sharp features weathering from age, though he gave off the air of an exuberant, distracted academic when presented with some sort of intellectual puzzle. 'Which is why I can't publish this yet.'

Selena sat up like a shot, hands planting on the desk. 'Toby, this is my big break -'

'No, right now, this is some accusations without conclusions. If I publish this right now, then Pudley Limited deny everything, and _hide _whatever it is they've been smuggling before we, or the Italian or British authorities, can find out what they're up to.'

'Bad things! Bribing customs officials isn't enough?'

'I want to know _why _they're bribing them.' Tobias lifted a hand to forestall the flow of blonde fury in killer heels. 'This isn't a "no," Selena, it's a "not yet." Find me what they're smuggling. And this will be an even _bigger _coup for you, I promise.'

Selena wrinkled her nose. 'I just got _back _from Milan -'

'Which is awfully close to Venice, the magical transportation hub of Europe. Curious, isn't it, that they're importing something in bulk so close to the one location on the continent where they could move something across the globe in hours?' He tilted his head down, looked at her over his glasses. 'You can do the legwork on their British offices. It's originating from here, after all.'

The papers were extended to her, and with a sigh she took them. 'Alright. But I want an advance for this. This is _publishable_, even if it's not a fizzing wand yet.'

Tobias's lips twitched. 'How about I process your expenses requests from Milan and we call it even?'

She stopped at that. 'You drive a hard bargain.'

'You're doing well, Selena. Really. This is good stuff, but it can be better. With time, your instincts will lead you to these conclusions for yourself. I really didn't figure this was going to spiral into something this big, or I wouldn't have given it to a green reporter like you… but you're proving yourself.'

'Weren't you my age when you were writing angry articles about Voldemort from exile?'

'And it almost got me killed, so I'm going to make sure, in an age of the Council of Thorns' machinations, that none of _my _reporters walk the same road.'

Selena's gaze flickered to Tobias' leg, injured by Death Eaters in the Second War and never the same since. Today he walked stiffly, but more or less fine. Still, he took stairs one at a time, on bad days needed a cane, and she knew pain-subduing potions sat in a cabinet by the wall.

_Some scars never go away._

'There's more,' said Tobias, and her eyes snapped up to his as if she hadn't been gawping. The look on his face made it clear he knew, and she wondered if he got used to it after over twenty-five years. 'I did a little looking into the British side of Pudley while you were gone. About eight months ago, their director lost control of majority shares of the company. Now there's no one majority shareholder, but there's a _lot _of cooperation between this new half-dozen or so names.'

'You think they might be behind Pudley's new illicit activities?'

'Possibly. But I also want you to take a look at these companies.' He handed over a fresh sheet of parchment. 'Some are British, some aren't, but they all underwent similar takeovers at around the same time. Some hostile, some not, but whoever was calling the shots before _isn__'t _calling the shots any more.'

Selena's eyes flashed. 'A smuggling network across multiple companies -'

'You're getting ahead of yourself.' He lifted a hand. 'Let the evidence lead you. And focus on Pudley most of all, but if you see anything which links in with these other names… bear this in mind.'

'I will.' She got to her feet, clutching the parchment, and only then did the tremendous responsibility he'd tossed to her sink in. 'I know you only took me on to do some societies events -'

'That's what you _applied _for, and I won't lie, I thought your name would open doors for you.' Tobias gave a wry smile. '_You__'re _the one who chose to chase up a spot of gossip at that gala and stumbled onto this. But if you enjoy reporting of more substance -'

'There's nothing insubstantial about society events.' Selena stuck her nose in the air. 'After all, it's about the _people _who do these kinds of things, isn't it? All of this, all of what we do. It boils down to people.'

His smile remained. 'We'll see how this story goes. And then we'll talk about your future with the _Clarion_, hm?'

She returned the smile, for once genuine and pleased, for once feeling like a teenager with a cool prospect before her instead of a woman wrestling hydras of disaster and death. 'Yes, Mister Grey.' It never hurt to be formal when she was in the mood for gratitude. 'Thank you, Mister Grey.'

Tobias nodded, and waved a hand at the door. 'You're welcome. Now go get your cupcake tribute.'

The bullpen gave her curious looks as she returned, still holding the papers. Somewhere in a corner someone snickered, assuming her alleged triumph had failed. Selena ignored them. Her rocket ship to the top was still loaded with fuel. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered to her desk, sat in a corner as befit someone of her junior status. It was near enough to the coffee machine to be disturbed by its choking sputtering and periodic explosions, not so near as to be able to lean over to anyone getting a drink and go, 'Ooh, get me a refill.'

In her absence, her desk had been turned into the tip. Anything nobody wanted to deal with was dumped here, any paperwork anyone wanted to hide. So, the heady glow of the rocket ship fading from her mind's eye, she slung her bag - Milanese - by the table and set about tidying. Or, more accurately, consigning everything that looked boring to the bin.

Back issues, memos, long-lost interview notes; it was all here. Selena paused only for a moment to scrutinise a loose fifth page from a months-old _Clarion _which announced the long-overdue marriage of former Quidditch star Caldwyn Brynmor and once-hero of the Phlegethon crisis Nathalie Lockett. 'Wasn't this six months ago?'

The very bored eyes of Jemima Carnihan, junior office assistant and the only person at the _Clarion _less important than Selena, lifted from her copy of _Witch Weekly_. 'What?'

'The wedding.'

'Oh.' Jemima might have strained something if she tried to care less. 'I guess? Who cares? Has-been Quidditch star and washed-up Potioneer.'

'Has-been Potioneer who saved Hogwarts.' Selena pursed her lips. She wasn't used to defending Nat Lockett. She was used to pointing out why everyone shouldn't be _worshipping _her. But hearing her efforts dismissed by some random girl was a reminder that her former Potions Professor _had _won the Order of Merlin for a reason.

_And then disappeared off the face of the planet when everything went south with Scorpius. _Nobody had thought much about it, or at least, nobody of Selena's acquaintance. It wasn't that Lockett's disappearance wasn't a cause for concern, but everyone had been too caught up in their own issues. When Lockett had re-emerged some eight months ago, she hadn't bothered to get in touch. Her disappearance was a concern for her fiancé and family, and if she'd sorted it out and _finally _got hitched, then all Selena could think was, 'good for her.'

'Never mind.' Selena tossed the paper down and judiciously shoved the rest of the stack into the bin. 'Jemima. Catch me up. On _everything_.'

Jemima paused like a mouse with one paw on the trap. 'Which everything? Office gossip?'

'Has there _been _any office gossip? Our boss doesn't sleep with his assistant; which sounds like a waste of a perfectly good assistant.'

'I see Milan did you good.' Jemima sighed. 'Er, Robert and Roberta broke up…'

'Is that because they realised it was creepy for two people with such similar names to be a couple?' Selena waved a hand. 'Never mind. Real politics. I've been in Italy for weeks -'

'We know, you keep telling us -'

'So what's been going on in Britain?'

Jemima gave her copy of _Witch Weekly _a forlorn look. 'Minister Halvard has been re-establishing control of the Department of Magical Transportation and loosening up regulations on transport…'

'Riveting.'

'…and then facing opposition from the MLE because of concerns about security. Which is making the DIMC throw strops because they need to set new guidelines on travel… doesn't your Mum tell you all this?'

'She writes.' Selena admired her empty desk, and set her papers from Tobias to the side. 'I can't lie, I assume her complaints about the Ministry are the same as they've been. She's _always _called the office of the Minister an incompetent and inefficient system of government.'

'Interestingly, more people seem to think that way. Polls came in the other day. Your mother's approval ratings are rocketing sky-high.'

'Of course they are, she doesn't have to _do _anything, and people can go right back to blaming the Ministry of Magic for everything which goes wrong -'

'No, no. The public thinks the International Magical Convocation was efficient, more efficient than anything they knew from the Ministry. With Minister Halvard's restoration of power as the IMC's drawn back its sweeping authority, the public's been reminded of how much the Ministry bickers, politicks, gets _nothing _done. They're already sick of it.'

_And here I thought it was just Mum__'s bellyaching. _But before Selena could comment, Jemima clicked her fingers and rustled about for a folded letter. 'Oh, I forgot. This came in for you this morning. I rescued it from the pile.'

Selena's heart sank as she recognised the handwriting, but she kept her expression schooled as she broke the seal and read the contents.

_Selena,_

_Heard you__'re back in the country. Rose and I just got back ourselves. Funny how these things work out, isn't it? I thought it might be nice if we got a drink some time. Caught up. You can tell me all about Milan, and I'll make sure to only tell you the interesting bits about Egypt._

_Thinks about it? It__'s been a while._

_- Matt_

'Jemima,' said Selena, brow ponderous as she lifted her wand and set fire to the letter. 'You're actually quite good with politics, aren't you?'

Jemima looked from the burning letter to her. 'Um. I'm just here to do the coffee and the paperwork and then I get time to read _Witch Weekly _-'

'Yes, but that's not why you got this job, is it.'

'I don't want to be a reporter. I hate writing.'

'But you like _nosying_, and you get people, and you get politics.' Selena glanced over at her. Jemima was small and she was pretty and she liked brightly-coloured nail varnish, and even though Selena didn't entirely approve of that shade of lipstick and those earrings, not everyone could be blessed with her impeccable fashion-sense. The fact remained that anyone would take one look at Jemima and assume they had her figured out, from blonde highlights to religiously-followed _Witch Weekly_. 'I need someone to help me nosy.'

Jemima watched the final scraps of the letter turn to ash which was brushed into the bin without another thought. 'Um…'

'Or you can go back to making tea for Roberta while she weeps about how she'd picked out a wedding dress even though they'd only been together three months, and you'll have no idea what to say to something that crazy and creepy.'

Jemima sighed. 'Alright. The boss got you something?'

Selena fanned out the paperwork and smiled. She'd need some help for the leg-work, and if she could give Jemima a makeover of her fashion as well as her career prospects, then so much the better.

And under no circumstances did she have to think about a boy named Matthias Doyle.


	4. Trouble of the Rain

**Trouble of the Rain**

'Do you want me here with you?' asked George, the two of them stood before the Potter family home in Godric Hollow.

Albus drew a deep breath and nodded. 'Yeah. It might stop Dad from killing me.'

'He's not going to kill you. He might shout. He's _really good _at that, but he gets over it.' George nodded at the door. 'You knock. It's that simple. I'm not actually giving you a joke.'

A muscle in the corner of Albus' jaw twitched. 'I could really do with one.'

'I'm a professional purveyor of magical entertainment, not a street-magician with -'

'Oh, bloody hell,' Albus muttered, and slammed the door-knocker to drown out George's ramblings. But there was a tight smile on his uncle's lips, and he suspected George knew what he was thinking: he'd been reminded of Scorpius' antics, just for a moment. And even though his throat was dry as the desert, his palms sweating, for once the reminder wasn't a punch to the gut, because it brought with it the memory of a smile.

But after all that, there was no answer. The knock echoed through the house, Albus chewed on the inside of his lip so hard he knew he'd get an ulcer when this was done, and the two men waited in taut silence for twenty seconds. Forty. A minute.

'Did you do it right?'

'It's a door-knocker,' said Al. 'How do you do it _wrong_?'

George frowned and bashed the knocker for himself, to no avail. 'Where the bloody hell are they?'

'Work?'

'It's a Sunday -' Realisation dawned. 'Oh. There's only one place they might be on a Sunday if they're not at home, isn't there.'

Albus rounded on him. '_No_ -'

'It's perfect!'

'We are not going to the Burrow! Everyone will be there!'

'Not _everyone_, because I wasn't invited. If your Mum and Dad have gone, then I bet it'll be with Teddy and Victoire, _maybe _Bill and Fleur. _I _think it's perfect. Your Gran will go ballistic and she won't let it turn into a row, and by the time your Dad has the chance to get pissy, lunch will be over and he'll have gotten over it.' George tugged on his sleeve. 'And _I _get fed. Come on.'

Summer had wept golden tears of grief at its own demise all over Godric's Hollow. Dead leaves dragged up and down the road like kids chasing the ball in street football, and the mere sight of home at the threat of winter started to warm something small and afraid in Albus' heart. He'd spent his first Christmas away from home in Australia, thinking the warmth might stop it from hurting so badly, haunted by the ghost of the year before - of that huge feast in the Great Hall of Hogwarts with the five of them together and a glimmer of proper happiness and hope. Last year he'd been in Alaska, and wondered if he could freeze with the ice and snow.

He had not looked forward to a third. But neither did he relish the prospect before him.

_You did this. To Scorpius, to your parents__…_

Then George was Disapparating them and there they were a cracking heartbeat later, at the rickety wooden gate before the Burrow. The cold wind was cut off by the steep hills and trees that sheltered the ramshackle house from the eyes of the Muggles of Ottery St. Catchpole, but the chimney puffed away merrily and lights glimmered from inside, and so he was under no illusions. Outside was the cold, and inside, where his family waited with all the hurt he'd inflicted on them, was the warmth.

George grabbed him by the sleeve and jerked him, still disoriented from the Apparition, into the front garden. Before Albus could complain or pull himself free, George called out in a loud, clear voice, 'I hope you've got space for two more!'

'What -' Albus yanked his sleeve back, frozen on the gravel path, and clutched the shoulder-strap of his bag with whitening knuckles.

'I thought you might run,' said George, unapologetic. 'This is a _much _better -' Then the front door of the Burrow swung open so hard it was almost knocked off its hinges, and Albus' breath caught as he saw his mother.

She looked paler and older and more worn, or so he thought, and he knew that had to come from two years of not knowing where in the world her son was. He took a step back before he could stop himself, felt every muscle coiling in a fight-or-flight reflex, and his dried throat closed up.

'Albus?' Ginny's voice quavered as she trudged onto the gravel path, cautious like he was made of glass that might shatter if she rushed.

George took one look between them and blurted out, 'Look what I found!'

'Well, not just him,' Albus says in a rushing mumble. 'But I got the wedding invitation and I spoke to Uncle George and then I thought - I mean, you weren't at home so we came here and I can - I don't want to interrupt your -'

But he was cut off by a muffled sob escaping Ginny's throat, and she hurled herself at him, a red-haired blur of upset and hugging. He'd felt like his shoulders were made of stone, tense and carrying such burdens, and though his mother pulling him into a warm embrace wasn't enough to undo that, he felt the impact chip away. It took all he had to not collapse there and then, to just bury his face in his mother's shoulder - no mean feat since he was, these days, so much taller than her - and grit his teeth against the wave of rising emotion. 'I'm sorry.' His voice was muffled by control, guilt, her jumper, and it was probably for the best this stopped him from saying more.

The next minutes passed in a rushing blur. Ginny didn't let go of him easily, not even when Grandma Molly showed up and joined in the enormous pile-up, and for long, thunderous seconds all Albus knew was that there were people who desperately wanted, _needed _him back, and it was almost, almost enough to fight back the fear. It kept him going long enough for him to untangle himself from his mother and grandmother and be corralled into the house to shake Granddad Arthur's hand, get a clap on the shoulder from Teddy, a less-tearful but still tight hug from Victoire, while in the background George was assaulted just as much by the Weasley matriarchs.

So he didn't have time to think, didn't have time to panic, didn't have time to consider bolting until Victoire faded from in front of him and then there was his father, looking as paralysed as Albus had felt at the sight of Ginny.

He realised this was the moment he'd feared the most. Because Harry Potter had saved the world from Voldemort and never broke, and if ever there was proof Albus was just _playing _at hero then surely running scared after taking a hit was it. If anything made him a failure -

'Dad, I -'

Harry Potter crossed the distance to pull him into a backslapping embrace, and for the first time in over two years, Al thought that maybe everything would be alright, after all.

'James - you should thank James,' Albus managed to choke once they'd broken apart, everyone swarming around him. 'He was the one who found me, he got me the invitation…'

He waved a hand at Teddy, who _beamed_, but George gave a sniff of mock-indignation. 'Scions of the Potter brood taking credit for my deeds, _again_…'

'Oh, _George_, don't be like that -' Molly swatted his arm and dabbed back tears. 'Everyone should sit down, there's _more _than enough dinner for everyone and we can catch up.'

'Roast beef sounds like a good reward for a good deed…'

If he'd been less frazzled and tense, Albus might have put more thought into the fact that even when he and George were sat at the dinner table, there were two empty places. But food wasn't ready yet, and Arthur cracked open some good Muggle ales he'd been harbouring for a special occasion. Flanked by his parents, across from Teddy, Albus found himself beset by innocuous updates and yammering about the wedding as everyone took great pains to bring him up to speed while neither prying into _his _adventures or making it seem contrived, and he was satisfied to listen until there was a fresh knock at the door.

That, he gave no thought, as Victoire and Teddy were mid-anecdote about wedding cake shopping, and the innate barbarism of making the animated figurines atop the cake edible, which ran the risk of making the reception end in a brutal blood sport. So it was only when Arthur returned from letting in the latest arrivals with a jovial explosion of, 'And look who's here!' that he glanced to the door.

Matt was helping Rose out of her coat, and all three of them froze - but it was Matt who rallied first, with a nervous but certainly pleased grin. 'Al!'

But his hand came to Rose's shoulder in a gesture Albus couldn't possibly mistake, and his spine was like granite once more as he got to his feet. 'Rose. Matt.'

Rose worked her lips wordlessly for thudding heartbeats as everyone fell to silence. 'When - when did you get back?'

'Just now. I didn't know you'd be here.' Albus looked up and down the crowded table with the now-apprehensive eyes of their extended family. 'I should - I'm crowding in here, I bet Ron and Hermione are coming, too -'

Molly almost dropped a cooking pot. 'Don't be ridiculous! Two more mouths is nothing at this rate -'

'And _I _can go,' said George, and Albus felt a ridiculous wave of affection for his uncle, so willing to sacrifice one of his mother's legendary Sunday roasts on his behalf.

'This is family,' Matt blurted, hand dropping from Rose's shoulder. 'If _anyone _should go -'

'Nobody,' exclaimed Molly, 'is going! And you're _certainly _not, Matthias, you know you're always welcome here.'

Rose coloured at that, eyes not moving off Albus, and when she spoke again her voice was hoarse. 'Where've you been?'

She might have meant it as a casual conversation-starter. It still came with a stab in Albus' gut. 'Lots of places,' he said, not taking his seat again. 'I've been busy. And I can see you've been, too.'

Matt winced. 'Er -'

'Gringotts,' said Rose, cutting him off. 'Curse Breakers.'

'I hear. Both of you.'

George leaned towards Teddy, eyes frantic. 'Teddy! _I _think you should make the cake figurines edible but also _flying_.'

Victoire gave him a look despairing both at his interruption and his suggestion. 'That's going to make a small child cry when they escape,' she pointed out. 'And then I'll blame you.'

'You'll be too loved-up to be angry -'

'We had a lot of time at Hogwarts to think about what we wanted to do,' Rose was saying, her chin tilting up that familiar, defiant half-inch. 'It was a decision a long time coming.'

Albus' gaze flickered between her and Matt, who looked like he wished he were somewhere else. 'Yeah.' His throat grated. 'You two clearly took your time.'

The table fell silent. Rose narrowed her eyes. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Matt slowly, deliberately, put Rose's coat down on the nearest armchair, and took a step towards the door. 'I'm going to -'

'How long was the _bloody _grieving period?' Albus hadn't expected this anger. It had bubbled inside him on some level since James had mentioned Rose and Matt were working together. The suspicion had worked away only to be confirmed now, and with it came blossoming resentment mixed in with his guilt. She'd _begged _him to stay, only to forget about Scorpius and then got on with her life while he wouldn't, _couldn__'t_…

Her eyes flashed. 'How would _you _know? You weren't _here_.'

Matt pulled his coat back on. 'I'm leaving you to this. Molly, thank you very much for inviting me.'

Rose at last looked at him. 'Matt -'

'This is a family affair,' said Matt in a low, tight voice as he turned his collar up against the impending wind and rain, 'and I _don__'t _need to be here for you two to have an argument about _him_!'

Molly had looked like she was going to try to stop Matt, but at that last she fell into the same stunned silence as the rest. Rose lifted a hand but couldn't summon words before he'd stormed to the door, taking great care to _not _slam it behind him. She whirled on Albus, eyes flashing. 'You don't get to judge me for how _I _coped -'

'Enough!' The snap, at last, came from Harry, roaring to his feet with his hands slamming on the table. _That _made everyone jump, including Rose, and Albus' eyes swept to his father with the cringing instinct that came whenever an authority figure was angry with him. It didn't happen often. He wasn't used to it.

Harry's eyes dragged across the table before landing on them. 'This family,' he said, voice lowering, 'has been broken up for a long time. You two went through so much, and _this _is how you're reunited? Is this really how you _want _this moment to be remembered?'

Albus found his feet taking a catapulting step to the door. 'I can -'

'Al.' His father's voice softened. 'Please, don't.'

Albus was facing away from the table, and knew when his eyes slammed shut that the only person who could see his expression was Rose. He'd started this, he'd jumped down her throat, and it was as much from _jealousy _as it was rage. But _he__'d _ruined this reunion. Still, his father's words made him stop, though his shoulders squared and for a moment he couldn't do anything but take a shuddering breath to try to steel himself.

Rose was staring at her feet when he turned around to face the dining table, and he couldn't look at her. 'Mum. Dad. Maybe we should go home?' Albus said. 'Talk properly. This was maybe a bit… much, to drop on everyone.'

Harry hesitated, but he and Ginny exchanged glances and then he nodded and turned to his mother-in-law. 'Molly, thank you, but we'll… we'll do this next week?'

And then there was a renewed array of crushing hugs and back-slaps and hand-shakes, and that at least killed the awkward hum in the air and took some of the edge off Albus' apprehension. But all the while, through the tearful farewells from his grandmother, and the reassuring smiles from Teddy and George, he still couldn't look at Rose, and the two of them parted, once again, without a word.

* * *

><p>Selena arched an eyebrow when she saw the drenched figure sat on her doorstep. 'I thought not replying to your note was pretty self-explanatory.'<p>

It was raining hard in London. She'd brought an umbrella, but Matt's coat hadn't protected him from doing a drowned rat impression, the fabric sodden, his hair plastered against his sunken, drawn face. When he got to his feet without an iota of a defensive, plaintive air about him, she realised something was up.

'I'm sorry,' he said, voice a low, strained mumble. 'I know I don't deserve this.'

Selena headed to the door and extended the umbrella so it covered them both. Not that this was worth much considering how sodden he already was. 'What's happened?' _Did you and Rose finally explode into that unhealthy fireball that__'s been in the making since you got together?_

'Albus is back,' said Matt.

It was not the reply she'd expected. '_Back_?'

'We went for Sunday dinner at her Gran's. He was there. Looks like it was unexpected for everyone.' He stared at her front door. She wasn't about to open it. 'They rowed, of course.'

'Of course. Two years apart and the first thing they have to do is have a blow-out. I _assume _about Scorpius?'

'About Albus abandoning her.' Matt's gaze tensed. 'And then he implied me and her wasted no time getting together -'

Selena's throat tensed. 'Why did you come to me? Why not John?'

'I don't know. You always understood it the most. And John and I argued.'

Selena swallowed undiplomatic words, then remembered she didn't give a damn. 'Gee, about the fact that your relationship is a horrible, unhealthy rebound that's fucking doomed, and you refuse to see it?'

Matt took a step back like he'd been beaten about the face with a second hammer. 'I didn't - Rose and I -'

'You know what's going on, Matt!' Selena jerked her umbrella back. He didn't deserve it. 'This has been going on for months; you didn't just support her, you waited and you _chased _her! You two only got together because Rose is bloody well trying to feel like there's something real and reliable in the world and she's got so used to it being _you _that she can't make sense of her feelings!'

'It's not like that!' Matt barked. 'I know you've been saying it for -'

'Months? And then you decided you didn't _like _me telling you the truth, so you stopped paying me _any _attention because I pointed out things you didn't want to hear?' Selena's lips thinned. 'Why do you think we stopped talking? Why do you think I didn't answer your _bloody letter_?'

'Selena, we're _friends _-'

'Friends don't ditch each other because they want to dedicate more of their time to the woman they're _obsessed _with who will never, _ever _love them back.' The cool, calm, collected part of Selena Rourke's mind knew this was the cruelest way she could make these points. The hurt, angry part of her didn't care. 'Friends don't ditch each other because they're being told truths they don't want to hear.'

'I didn't _ditch _you -'

'No. You just gave Rose more of your time, because a part of you hoped she might love you when she was done grieving. You just talked to me less, because I pointed out, and will keep pointing out, that it is never, _ever _going to work, Matt.' She tightened her grip on her umbrella to stop her shaking hand from turning her into a water-spout. 'And I couldn't stand around and watch you destroy yourself, and watch you ignore me.'

'Selena -'

'And have you even _told _her about half of what you get up to? With your father, with de Sablé, with the Templars?' She stalked back to him, reached out to yank the glove off his right hand, and her thumb brushed against the ring. 'Does she _ever _ask about this? Or does she pretend it's just a trinket, even though you both bloody know better, but the two of you don't _even talk honestly about a damned thing_?'

He snatched his glove back. 'That has nothing to do with this. I'm talking about _you _and me -'

'What were we, Matt?' Now her voice quavered, and she hated herself for it. 'What was I? A distraction? Something you could play with and then put down when _Rose _needed you? We had something. We had a _deal_. And then Scorpius died, and you saw your chance.'

For a moment, he looked like he might fall over by the pummelling impact of her accusations. Then something in his gaze steeled. '_You _pulled away from _me_! I was trying to help Rose, because she was _our friend_, and _you _drifted away, back to Miranda, back to Abena!' He stabbed an accusing finger at the house she shared with her old friends. 'You're damn right we had a deal! I tried! I tried to spend time with you, with you _both_! I didn't _ditch _you, you kept _avoiding _me! I had to help Rose, and how could I help her _and _chase you while you ran? What was Isupposed to think, other than that you'd discarded me like the nerdy distraction _I__'d _been during the hunt for the Chalice, to be disposed of once everyday normalcy came back?'

_I was protecting myself_, she wanted to yell. But that was an admission of weakness, and she'd already blurted more than she'd meant to. She drew a slow breath and found the steel inside her again. 'Why did you come here? To make me second choice again?'

His hand dropped with his expression, and his shoulders slumped. 'Because you… I…'

'Because I tell you the truth,' she finished for him, voice chilling with the wind. 'And you were hoping I'd tell you a truth you want to hear. Newsflash, Doyle. Truth doesn't work like that. And it sounds like you've worn down even_ John__'s _patience.' She stepped into her porch, the height of the townhouse blocking her from the rain, and closed her umbrella. 'Go home, Matt. I didn't answer your note for a reason: we could _not _be more done.'

'Selena!'

But she ignored him, jammed her keys in the door and left him outside without another word, without so much as a look over her shoulder, because she could imagine the lost and forlorn look on his face. She'd seen it a thousand times before and didn't need to see it again, because she hated what it did to her resolve.

She was home. She was away from him, away from her mother, away even from the hijinks of the _Clarion__'s _office; it was a Sunday and she was with her friends, friends who would take one look at her, know she was upset, and do what they always did. Not ask questions. Not pry. Not make her face up to issues she was determinedly trying to not think about. But make a cup of tea and absolutely divert her from anything and everything which could be distressing.

Or important.

* * *

><p>Rose Apparated home alone after the most awkward Sunday lunch of her life. Her parents had arrived about five minutes after the Potters left, and everyone had managed to gush about how Albus was back, and wasn't it lovely, while acting like they stood on a bomb about to go off. She would have preferred they either didn't talk about the topic, or talked about it like absolutely nothing was wrong, but instead there had been this stilted, terrible middle ground.<p>

It was George who'd saved the day. George who'd taken one look at her face and changed the subject back to the wedding, and Victoire and Teddy - bless their souls - were both conscientious enough to realise the day needed saving, and loved up enough to _want _to gush about the plans. Like happy, normal people.

She'd left as soon as was diplomatic, hugged her grandmother with a silent apology for causing the spectacle, and got a squeeze back which made her feel a little better. But there were other obstacles ahead, and so the knot in her stomach remained, iron-tight, as she climbed the wooden stairs in the converted old house which homed her new flat. They were not yet in the Floo network, thanks to Matt's father's obsession with security. So she'd had to Apparate down a back alley and tromp through the front door, which would have been fine except she had no idea if Matt had gone home or if he'd gone for a drink with John.

But she felt the heat of the fireplace when she stepped into the flat, saw his shape silhouetted against the flames, and wondered how long he'd been there, waiting for her. The flat was a tidy, modern sort of place by magical standards, refurbished despite the old-fashioned charm of the building, and she was still getting used to it as a home. She'd thought that coming back with Matt there would help.

Right then, it just made her gut twist into familiar shards of ice. She closed the door behind her, and drew a wavering breath. 'Hey.'

He glanced over his shoulder, sharp features angular against the shadows of the flickering fire, and his pained frown looked all the deeper and more anguished for it. 'Hey.'

She rested her back against the door and realised she had no idea what she was supposed to say. 'I'm sorry.' That was always a good start. 'I was startled, and then he got accusatory -'

'You don't need to be sorry. He _was _accusing. It's not fair. He wasn't there all this time; he really doesn't get to judge.' Matt turned to face her, hands open by his side, an invitation for her to approach he obviously didn't want to push in case she rebuffed him. 'He abandoned you. How can _he _think he knows what happened while he was gone?'

Her heart swelled as he confirmed what she'd told herself time after time. This was why he was her shelter; he always knew what was on her mind, always knew what to say to calm the demons that clawed at her guts. He'd silenced them for so long; Albus couldn't undo that with just one row.

His hand on hers was a rope mooring her to his harbour when she came to him, and though melting the ice in her gut only revealed the stone underneath, no flesh and blood left in her, the nothing was always better than the cold. 'He wasn't here,' she murmured, tilting her face up to his. 'You were. All along.'

The corners of his eyes were crinkled, and there was a tension to his brow she knew, because she could read his every move and every instinct, and she _knew _there was something worming away at him. But she didn't ask, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, touch gentle, coaxing, and distant troubles didn't matter as much as the fact that he was here, now, warm, close. 'Like I told you,' Matt breathed against her lips as he leaned in. 'I will wait for you.'

_I__'ll come back every time_. The words were like a stab in her heart, slashing through her walls and defences, making the stone bleed, and so she did all she could do, all she could _ever _do when the past reared its head and scrabbled against scars she'd promised herself were healed.

She clung to Matt. She kissed him, let him hold her close in their new home, the first step of their new future, their new life, and reinforced that age-old promise that she was no longer beholden to the past.

* * *

><p>It was late when Harry finally sank into an armchair opposite his son, and passed him a glass of firewhiskey. 'Your mother's gone to bed.'<p>

Albus nodded, hunched his shoulders and wrapped his hands around the tumbler of the amber liquid that tried to melt him as he swallowed it down. 'It's been a big day. I'm sorry I showed up like I did…'

'Don't be sorry for that.' Harry winced. 'That's not what I mean. You don't ever need to be sorry for coming back. You don't ever need to be _sorry_.'

'I do.' Albus tightened his jaw. 'You and Mum let me go, because you thought I needed time and freedom. You didn't fight me, you didn't try to make me stay. You let it happen, and I repaid you by staying gone for this long.' He frowned into the glass. 'And… truth be told, I don't even know why I'm _back_.'

His father tensed. 'If you need to go again…'

But his voice trailed off. Albus could hear the rest of the sentence, an assurance that he was free to do what he needed - but they both knew how hollow that would be. To go again would be to inflict fresh wounds. 'I don't know what I'm doing, Dad. I don't - I don't mean that I'm going to _go_, I just… I have no more idea what I'm doing or what I'm feeling than I did two years ago.' He swallowed a thick mouthful of whiskey. 'Which does make the argument that running away hasn't done me a damned lick of good.'

'There is that point of view.' Harry shifted his weight. 'Your mother and I want you to be happy. And yes, we'd like you to stay. But we'll - we'll do whatever you need, Al. I know you don't know what that is, but how about you stick around and we try to figure that out together?'

'It sounds like a start.' Albus looked to the stairs leading into the further depths of the Potter house. 'I think that… I think that tomorrow I'm going to get that trunk out of the attic.'

His father's expression creased, and he nodded. 'I can help you with that, if you like.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I would.' He swirled the firewhiskey in the glass. 'Invite James for dinner, too?'

Harry looked surprised. 'Of course -'

'He found me. He was looking for me, all this time. He and Teddy conspired with the wedding invitation to try to welcome me back, and when he couldn't get through to me - though he tried - he sent Uncle George, because he realised Uncle George was the guy who'd be able to get through to me best because _he__'s _lost…' Albus slammed his eyes shut. 'But he brought me back. And he should know that he _was _the one who brought me back.'

'I'll Floo him in the morning. And Neville, so maybe he can let Lily come down Saturday to see you…'

Albus' throat constricted, and the firewhiskey managed to burn its way through. 'Yeah. Yeah, that'd be - yeah.' He coughed, and lowered his glass. 'What's the news with the Council of Thorns?'

Harry watched him for a moment before he accepted the topic change. 'There are still attacks in Europe. Some blanket terror strikes just to keep them in the public eye, or thefts. They still make their money off the black market, but really, they're more South America's problem than the world's.'

'And Prometheus Thane?'

'We'll find him. He's not working with them any more; he might have his own team, but he must have fallen out of favour and now he's hated by _both _sides. He might not be our top priority but the man is a murderer and a danger and we _will _find him, Al. I promise you that.'

He looked at his father. 'I believe you. And I know it's not - if I wanted to go after him, Dad, I'd have been doing it. I don't know if I've got that sort of fight in me any more.'

'You don't have to. You don't _need _to fight any more.'

_Do I know how to do anything else? _Albus drained his glass. 'I guess I should figure out what I _do _need to do.'

'For now? Take it one day at a time.' Harry hesitated. 'Maybe, when you're a bit more settled… maybe you should talk to Rose.'

'I… should. Yeah. I owe her an apology. That was shitty of me.'

'You were surprised. It's been a heavy day. But she really hasn't had an easy time of it. To hear Ron and Hermione talk of it, honestly, she's spent most of the last two years shut down. Everyone was surprised when she and Matthias Doyle got together, a bit, but… she's healing. She's allowed to heal, she's _got _to heal -'

'I know,' said Albus, a little sharper than he meant, and his father fell quiet. 'And it's a stupid, selfish sort of objection that I've got; this sort of defiance that _I _miss him the most. And it's my own damned fault that she and I couldn't heal together, because _I _left, but I…' He bowed his head, and his shoulders hunched up. 'She'll move on. She might always remember him, but she's moved on. I don't know how I even begin to do that.'

'One day at a time,' Harry repeated, awkward.

'He was my brother, Dad. I love James, and I want to make things _better _now with James, but Scorpius was - in a family like this, we're so big, and everything is _everyone__'s_, and - it sounds so childish to say that he was _my _friend, and that made him special 'cos he was mine. And he didn't give a damn who I was; he wasn't there because we were related or because I was famous, and he was…' His throat closed up again, the words choking, and he lifted his hands to scrub his face as if he could push the rising wave back. 'I don't know how I even laugh without his jokes…'

Then his father was knelt before him, his hands on his shoulder like he was eleven years old and again terrified he wouldn't find a place at Hogwarts - and he _had_, because he'd found Scorpius, and the rest was history, but for a moment it was enough to know his father was going to love him anyway, whoever he was and whatever choices he made. 'You tried time,' Harry murmured, his hold tight, warm. 'Or, time on your own. Try time with your loved ones, and remember, he would want you _laughing_…'

Albus burst into tears on his father's shoulder.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Had he? Not on the two year anniversary, or the one year. Had he cried when Scorpius was gone? Had he ever actually unleashed all of his agony and anguish, or had he just decided to lock it away and _run_?

It didn't matter, because he'd never cried like _this_, clutching at his father like he was that scared eleven year-old again, and the grief came in waves that threatened to overwhelm him, drown him, wash him away. But his father held him firm, and he wasn't lost to it, and when it subsided - eventually, after sobs racked his body and every inch of him until he didn't know he had the strength or even grief left in him to weep more - he was still there.

And could believe, for the first time, that maybe feeling every inch of grief wasn't letting loose a tide that would wash him away, but a wave which might, inch by inch, begin to cleanse, and heal.


	5. Of Day and Night and Death and Hell

**Of Day and Night and Death and Hell**

Rose was only a little surprised when Selena appeared at her door with a bottle of wine and declared, 'We're going out.'

Matt had left the flat to meet up with John and the rest of his old Gryffindor friends half an hour ago. She'd expected to spend the evening at home with a thick book and the research notes Griznak had forwarded her about the findings from Ranisonb's tomb. It was, after all, a Tuesday night. Nothing that exciting was going to happen on a Tuesday night, even if she wasn't technically working right then.

'If we're going out,' said Rose, 'then why did you bring a bottle of wine?'

'Pre-drinks! The fancy kind, not the "I'm cheap and think being drunk is the sole purpose of a night out so will chug crap vodka in my room" kind.' Selena waltzed past her, a flurry of blonde hair and red wine, her heels clip-clopping on the polished wooden floor. 'I like the place. Swanky digs.'

'Yeah - how did you know where we live?'

'I have my ways, darling. Where _are _your wine glasses?'

'Er…' Rose hurried into the kitchen, glad that she and Matt kept the flat in gloomy lighting of just a few sconces in the evenings so Selena wouldn't see her cheeks colouring. 'I don't think I actually _own _wine glasses…'

'Classy. Start as you mean to go on, Weasley. But fetch us _something_, even if we must be tragic and drink Beaujolais out of a chipped tea mug.'

Rose rummaged about cupboards before she found the box, and with a growing sense of guilt and mischief, brought that over to where Selena had artfully draped herself across one of the armchairs. She opened the box. 'How about these?'

'Cut glass whiskey tumblers. I _assume _those are Matt's.' Selena smirked. 'That's somehow worse than not having any wine glasses. That's not being poor, that's just being uneducated. Get them out.' So they sat before the fireplace in silence as Selena wrangled with the cork and Rose set out Matt's favourite whiskey glasses for them to drink red wine out of.

'It needs to _breathe_, dear,' said Selena, as she topped up a tumbler of red wine.

'What does that even mean?'

'I don't know how it works, but I know I've drunk wine before it's breathed and after it's breathed and, I guarantee, with some wine, you want to drink it after. It's why people slosh wine around in a glass so much. So, get sloshing.'

Instead, Rose looked over and said, 'so how _did _you know to find us here?'

'Like I said. I have contacts.'

'Except Matt's dad is famously paranoid and has set us up with all security.'

'Security. Pah!' Selena had a swig of red wine. 'Fine. John told me. He's very angry, you know.'

Rose raised an eyebrow. John Colton was one of the most infamously patient people she knew, despite his flippant demeanour. 'At what?'

'Oh, you know. Matt. I've never seen him more happy to have a grumble. When we're done with this bottle, we're going somewhere…'

Rose thought one bottle of wine between two women was an evening well on its way, but the manner in which Selena threw back glass after glass was putting pay to that. 'Selena, what's _wrong_? We haven't seen each other in months and this is how you show up -'

'Yes! It's lovely to see you!' Selena put down her tumbler to lunge at Rose in an all-encompassing embrace, which meant there was a lot of hair _everywhere_.

Rose tried to extricate herself as judiciously as possible. 'And you - and it is, it really is, but something's wrong.'

'Not with _me_. But if something were wrong with _you_, I wouldn't know, would I, because you don't get in touch -'

Indignation flashed in Rose's gut. 'I didn't know you were back in the country. I thought you were still in Milan.'

'Hmph.' Selena picked up her wine glass anew. 'Matt knew.'

Now Rose paused. 'When did you see Matt?'

'Sunday. After Albus showed up at your Gran's. He didn't tell you?'

Rose flinched. 'Don't do that.'

'Do what?'

'That. "He didn't tell you?" You clearly know he didn't. Don't play me, Selena, I'm not other people.' She put the tumbler of wine down on the coffee table. 'What do you think is going on?'

Selena didn't answer for a moment, leaning back in her chair, firelight dancing in her long, golden hair. Rose had always been jealous of Selena's good looks; how she could be the most distinguished woman at a fancy occasion, or the most effortlessly, casually gorgeous girl at a party. Once, she'd let herself be overshadowed by her friends like Miranda and Abena, more forthright or more quietly confident, with Selena as the melodramatic and less-intelligent tag-along. But if long years of hardship and suffering had done anything, they'd carved chunks out of her insecurities, and when she combined her natural beauty with the rod of iron now running through her, she could be anything. Sophisticatedly gorgeous. Dressed-down but pretty. Haunting, lonely, beautiful.

'I'm going to ask my favourite question, Rose,' she said after a long silence, and green eyes locked onto her. 'Are you happy?'

Rose sighed. 'If I say, "yes," you won't believe me.'

'I might. Are you going to say yes?'

Rose stared into her glass, the wine shimmering in the firelight. 'I still get nightmares,' she said at length. 'I still wake up thinking of Scorpius. I still get punches in the gut like I'm betraying him. And I don't know how to make them stop. It's been over two years and he wouldn't want me grieving forever.'

'No.' Selena sipped her wine. 'No, I dare say he wouldn't. He'd joke that he'd rather you weren't moving on with Matt -'

A flinch. 'He's not _here _to make that joke, and Matt and I are working -'

'So you _are _happy?'

'I have a job!' Rose exploded to her feet, clutching the glass. 'I have a job which I'm _good _at, where I have _prospects_, which uses my skills and experience and doesn't get me treated like an idiot child! I have a _lovely _flat where I live with a boyfriend who loves me, and I have a huge and supportive family -'

'But your last boyfriend was also murdered by international terrorists, and your adored, close cousin ran out on you without offering you any support, and now he's back to throw all of the choices you made to _survive _in your face.'

'Albus is - I don't care what Al has to say.'

Selena did her the courtesy of pretending to believe this. 'You've listed very good reasons to be happy. But they're all about your quality of life and the people around you. I haven't heard you talk even once about _your _feelings.'

Rose narrowed her eyes. 'We've talked about this. I know full well you disapprove of Matt and I -'

'I don't disapprove of you and Matt,' said Selena in a calm, level voice. 'I disapprove of people lying to themselves.' She got to her feet, drained her wine, and stepped over. 'My rule is the same rule it's always been. If you can look me in the eye and say with absolute honesty that you are happy and fulfilled by this relationship with Matt, that you love him or at least feel you're well on your way - that he, and your job, and your life, are what _you _choose, not just what feels like the most stable and comforting option in a life which has beaten you about the face with a bat - if you can just look me in the eye and say, "I am happy," then I will take your word for it and we will finish this wine.'

Selena was too close for Rose to do anything but look her in the eye, that emerald gaze piercing but not unkind. This was not the first time Selena had done this. They'd talked just before the Gringotts job started, and just after she and Matt had finally got together, and even though she _knew _that Selena and Matt had devolved into blazing rows over time, Selena had never been accusatory at her. Because Selena was smart enough to know that Rose would get defensive at the first opportunity, just to deflect the questions, when all she wanted was the truth.

Rose looked Selena in the eye, and said, 'Let's go get drunk.'

'Good,' said Selena. 'I say we leave these half-empty glasses here for Matt to find and weep over. Merlin, he's got pretentious.'

'He has, a bit,' said Rose. The stab of guilt from criticising her boyfriend when he wasn't there turned to a twist of girlish glee at doing something so deliciously petty and adolescent. 'He's taken to smoking cigars on occasion. I don't mind the smell, but I think he's trying a bit hard to look all academic and fancy.'

Selena laughed, and it was a good, normal laugh as they grabbed their coats and headed for the door, and for once this didn't feel like an inquisition, or an occasion to put on a mask and play the good little worker or girlfriend or daughter. As the wine started to buzz its way around Rose's head, she reflected how Selena was the person who made her feel most honest with herself.

'So where are we going?' she asked as they emerged into the crisp, cold night air of Cambridge in autumn, and without thinking her gaze went to the starlit sky. Orion, as ever, stared down at her, and she blinked the vision back.

Selena smiled an impish smile. She did, Rose reflected with a jolt of genuine pleasure, smile a lot more these days. 'Let's try Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks. It's been a while.'

Rose nodded, and they walked for the side-alleyway from which Apparition was possible. 'I didn't ask how _you__'re _doing.'

'Me? I'm fine, darling -'

'Come on, at least do a proper evasion instead of the stock line. That's why we're here, isn't it?'

Selena looked at her, and something pinched in her gaze - awkward, but not insincere. 'I don't usually have nightmares,' she said in a low voice. 'I don't usually wake up gasping his name, or wake up and think the world's set to rights before I remember it _isn__'t_. It's feeling normal to be alone. Is that called getting better?'

'I don't know,' said Rose, lips thinning. 'I'll tell you when I get there.'

The Apparition brought them cracking out of the blackened streets of Cambridge and onto the cobbled roads of Hogsmeade in a chest-thumping heartbeat that was the only indication they'd travelled nearly the length of the British Isles in one moment. Selena staggered and let go of Rose's arm, fanning herself with a hand. 'You're out of practice at that, dear.'

'Are you going to be sick?'

'No, no.' Selena put a hand to the wall. 'Just when it's not a matter of life or death, I've discovered I _rather despise _Apparition. I'll be right as rain in a moment.'

'You'll be righter and rainer with another glass of wine,' Rose said, and helped the two of them limp into the main street of Hogsmeade. 'Come on.'

'You know the magic words to inspire me.' Selena was brightening already. 'So, _tell _me about Egypt, and skip the boring parts. I hear Raskoph's flunkies continue to make a sport out of trying to brutally murder you?'

The story of Egypt took them all the way across Hogsmeade and to the Three Broomsticks, which was comfortably busy but not thriving on a Tuesday night. Lights glimmered from the windows of most houses, plenty of people went about their evening business, and they could meld with the crowd as just another two young witches out for a casual drink.

When they got to the bar, Selena looked over Rose's shoulder and swore. 'Hector's here. I have miscalculated.'

Rose didn't hesitate as she leaned towards Madam Rosmerta and said, 'Then we'll make that a bottle of _eau-de-vie _and two glasses.'

'A Beaujolais and then _eau-de-vie_, evidently we're having a French sort of night,' said Selena with approval, and cast another discreet glance across the bar. 'It's fine, he's just here with his Tutshill teammates, the brigade of neckless wonders -'

'I appreciate you ragging on my ex-boyfriend as a form of moral support,' said Rose, and still didn't look to the relevant corner. 'But I'm _fine_, seriously.'

'Of course you are, dear.' Selena grabbed the bottle and poured two shots as soon as Madam Rosmerta delivered. 'That's why we're drinking this. Chin chin.'

It burnt on the way down, but not like Firewhiskey, which kept burning and which Rose had no stomach for. That was a constant effort to try to warm up her insides, which she resented on principle, while the French drink was more like a shot of flames that scalded and, if you survived, you felt better for it. 'Hector and I don't argue. We don't fight. We're not hostile exes. We're _ignoring _each other exes. Trust me, in the _Daily Prophet_ of problems in my life, Hector Flynn doesn't even feature in the lifestyle section.'

'Well,' said Selena, 'the _Daily Prophet _is a biased and terrible rag.'

Rose laughed. 'That's your cue to tell me about Milan.'

'It was _wonderful_; you'd _hate _it,' Selena gushed, full of self-awareness as she launched into a well-rehearsed and ridiculously over-the-top regalement of her wars against corporate bribery and possible international smuggling, and Rose could perch on her bar stool and drink the burning drinks and listen and try to ignore Hector.

Despite herself, there was something comfortable about trying to ignore her ex-boyfriend. She could hear him, of course, because Hector was a loud man surrounded by other loud young men. He was a Reserve Chaser for the Tutshill Tornadoes these days, and a small part of her was pleased for him but the rest of her couldn't care less about _anything_. Tonight, avoiding him felt like the kind of thing normal young women did. They could worry about awkward run-ins and avoiding embarrassing confrontations, and not about the perils of their relationship while they grieved for dead men.

'So how's your mother?' Rose prompted the moment the Milan story was over. The show had to go on.

'Oh.' Selena rolled her eyes. 'We don't talk a lot, because she's so caught up in winding back the IMC. She's been complaining for months about being tired and busy, but the world doesn't really _need _her to be the mad dictator controlling everyone's lives and security, and it really is for the best the Convocation shuts down. She knows this, she's just going to be melodramatic until the last.'

'Mothers, melodramatic? Surely _not_.'

'I _know_. She keeps bellyaching about the Minister, and I _agree _that he's a complete donkey. But I think if the IMC's done any good - aside from keeping us generally safe from the Council of Thorns - then it's showing people the Ministry needs some serious reforms. Mum made sure she recruited people of talent and competence into the positions of power in the IMC, while the Ministry is _still _such an old boys' network.'

'Mum's been saying similar things,' Rose reflected gloomily. 'I think she's trying to put forward all manner of reforms, possibly see about Department Heads being electable positions or the like. The IMC wasn't perfect, but they got the job done, and I think people are pretty sick of the Ministry's outdated eccentricities after they've been governed by a more efficient, modern sort of organisation for the last two years.'

'Yes,' said Selena, 'but France and Germany and America don't need to be governed by my mother and her cronies. Which she knows and accepts, but I think I'm going to have the most _bored _and interfering mother in the world clamouring at me for news or distractions once it's all over.'

'Isn't that our life, though?' Rose sighed and had another swig of _eau-de-vie_. 'Distractions.'

'_Morbid_, you nerd.' Selena clinked their glasses together. 'Now, come on, half a bottle in and are you going to talk to Al?'

'I _should_. Though he's not got in touch. But we _did _row.' Rose sighed. 'I don't know if I'm angry with him or if I want to make up with him.'

'It can be both things. What're you angry at him about? Leaving?'

Rose refilled both their glasses. 'Lisa. Saida. Whatever her name was.'

Selena started, and put a hand on her arm. 'Oh, _dear_, you can't -'

'She betrayed us, she sold us out. She's as responsible as Raskoph or Thane or any of them. And let's face it, Selena, we'd have left her in Kythos, or Syria, if it hadn't been for Al!'

'What about Brillig or Cat Island?'

'We can't predict _that_. So much happened in so many different ways. But she told Thane to find us in Venice. _Everything _that happened after then was her fault.'

'Including giving us what we needed to break out in Ager Sanguinis?'

Rose slammed the glass down. 'Are you defending her?'

Selena opened and closed her mouth. 'No. I'm really not. I don't… I admit it, Rose, I don't _care _about Eva Saida. She's a symptom of bigger problems, and I _can__'t _understand her because I don't know enough, so I've refused to lose sleep over her. But I appreciate it's different for you, and it's certainly different for Al.' She took a swig from her drink. 'Blegh. Has it occurred to you he left because he blames himself for that, too, though?'

Rose furrowed her brow. 'I don't understand why he left.'

'And I reckon,' said Selena gently, 'that's what you're most angry about.'

It was a difficult point to argue. Al had left with mumbling, half-baked explanations of a man in too much pain to want to justify himself, and she'd been howling in her own agony too much to put herself in his shoes. They'd parted with rifts and breaches cracking open, not just between them, but in themselves. So Rose had another drink, and instead said, 'I might not have time for any of that, anyway; I need to talk to my boss at Gringotts about our next assignment.'

'I thought you were sticking around for this wedding?'

'Well, yes, but there'll be prep-work in Britain for that, and once it's _over_, we can get going -'

If there was a sound, it was lost to the clinking of glasses and the laughter of the Three Broomsticks, and certainly no such sound cut her off. What _did _cut her off was a sudden creeping sense, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, those years-old survival instincts stirring before a rumble ran through her bones, a rumble she knew all-too well. _Something__'s happening_.

Selena had put her glass down, too. 'Did you hear that?'

'No,' said Rose.

'Me neither,' said Selena, and they stood and reached for their wands in unison.

Just as the screaming from outside started.

'Check the back,' Rose said without missing a beat, and then her voice was ringing out across the pub, clear and commanding. 'Everyone, stay down and stay quiet! I'll take a look!'

Wizards twice her age, the landlady, her ex-boyfriend, all gave her a gormless stare and remained unmoving and silent as she padded to the front door. She didn't know if they were that desperate to be told what to do or if she, a girl of nineteen, really did have the necessary presence to command them. But they were behaving, so that would do.

The lights in Hogsmeade were dimmer as she creaked the door open. Plenty of houses had been plunged into darkness, and the flames of the street lanterns glimmered to send shadows rippling across cobbles and clawing up walls. The screaming came from the north, and within heartbeats there were thudding footsteps and about a dozen people sprinting in a blind panic down the main road.

'What -'

But they ignored her, bellowing to one another to run - wizards, families bundling children, some in their night-clothes, driven from their homes by whatever was approaching from the north side of Hogsmeade.

Then a sliver of white slashed through the darkness in a loping gait, lumbering towards her and the fleeing townspeople, and the sensation which settled in Rose's gut was at one moment blind terror, and the next comforting recognition. She slammed the door shut and turned to the stricken patrons. 'Inferi.'

Selena was returning from the back door, and something cold and calm seized her expression. 'Oh,' she said in a soft voice. 'It's that time again.'

'Hector!' Rose bellowed at him because he was the most useful person she recognised. 'Get your boys and start barricading the doors and windows; we want to keep those things _out_. Selena, set up some anti-flame wards on the building; fire's our friend but it's no good if we burn ourselves to death. Madam Rosmerta, I need you to check the Floo. See if you can send word out or start to get people outof here.'

'Got it.' Selena lifted her wand as the screaming outside reached a whole new pitch. 'What're _you _doing?'

'Checking if they've blocked off Apparition.'

'They?'

Their eyes met. 'Those Inferi were bone-white.'

'Oh,' said Selena again. 'It's _that _time again.'

Inferi were corpses animated by Dark Magic, and most of the time this made them shambling, rotten figures of grey skin and bone. This had been something different; human once, but warped and twisted, and Rose had only seen one thing which did that to an undead before: the Eridanos plague, the Council of Thorns' weapon two and a half years ago. But Eridanos had been wiped out, the infection sites cleansed and the Council's source destroyed. They had intended on a successor, as virulent and dangerous and letting Thornweavers control the Inferi better, but Lethe had died with Scorpius Malfoy.

Hector Flynn was on his feet, grabbing a table with one strong hand, his wand pulling others towards him. Outside there was the sound of breaking glass, a scream cut off at a sudden, high-pitch with a low growl. 'Aren't we going to block people out?' he called at Rose.

'Yes.' She swished her wand through the air, detecting the flows of space-warping magic she would need to tap into if she was going to attempt Apparition. 'But if those things get in, then everyone here is dead.'

'You've gotten _cheery_,' her ex-boyfriend observed as he and his Quidditch teammates piled up tables in front of the windows. 'Then aren't we just boxing ourselves in to die?'

He was doing what he was told even as he voiced objections, she noticed. She lowered her wand as it sparked its results. 'They've blocked out Apparition, so I'd bet we can't Floo out, or even send word. But this is Hogsmeade; even if nobody gets word out, Hogwarts will notice something's wrong, and then we'll have reinforcements from the Ministry, and then we live. I assure you, we _cannot _fight these things on open ground.'

'You don't know how many of them there are.'

_This is the Council of Thorns. It__'s not just going to be one. '_I do,' said Rose. 'Enough.'

There was a thud of something heavy hitting the front door, and her heart lunged into her throat twice: first at that, then at the voice calling, desperate, 'Please, please open -'

And then a growl, and a shriek of pain and terror, and the sound of flesh and bone tearing. Hector took a sharp step back, his face white, but Rose shot her wand out to drag a heavy oak table before the front door. 'They're here,' she said. 'You open that up for anyone, _anyone_, and you kill us all.'

Hector rounded on his teammates. 'Guys! Check the back!'

'And the upstairs!' chipped in Selena. 'Those things can climb and jump, too.'

'Madam Rosmerta! How's that Floo coming?' Rose bellowed at the landlady stood before the hearth.

'It's blocked off, no messages or travel -'

'Then we fight.' Rose lifted both hands to the gathered, wide-eyed wizards. 'Those things out there are Inferi. They will kill you; rip you apart, bite you, claw at you. The best weapon against them is fire; failing that, destroy the heads. Watch the entrances, stick together, and do _not _panic. We are in a defensible location. We can keep safe. We can keep them at bay until the Ministry gets here.'

A rumble ran through the crowd at her words, fear mixed with a certain kind of reassurance that came from the desperate knowledge that they didn't have a choice. Selena slunk next to her, voice dropping. 'So, just like old times.'

'Except,' said Rose, 'I'm a bit drunk.'

Then there was another impact at the window, and the shrieking sound of unnaturally strengthened and elongated nails on glass, and the murmur of the patrons turned into a low moan of fear.

'I'm not drunk _enough_,' Selena muttered.

A window smashed near the corner, and a burly Quidditch player drew back with a look of fear Rose would never have expected from someone so large. She nudged Selena. 'Watch the front door; I've got this.' She pushed her way through the crowd that was happy to let her pass and reached where the piled up tables blocked the shattered window.

'They're cunning, like animal instincts,' Rose said, because it reminded her and because it was oddly comforting to educate as she went, 'but they're not thebrightest of creatures.'

Growls came with the clawed hand that grasped the corner of the barricade. The skin clung tight against the bone and was just as white, sinewy and with unnaturally elongated fingers that ended in clawed nails inches long, curved, sharp, vicious. Without hesitating, she put her wand to the flailing hand and murmured, '_Incendio_.' The skin went up like old parchment, and the scream was high-pitched, quavering, not inhuman enough and with a childlike quality which made her flesh crawl. But the hand was jerked back.

And then it started in earnest.

Windows smashed, clawed hands tried to struggle their way through the gaps, and Selena started to rally the patrons at the other side of the pub. Rose peered through the gap she'd left as the Three Broomsticks was given over to panicked defending, and jolted as she saw the pitch-black, deep-set eyes in a sunken, white, skull-like face peering back at her.

She blasted fire in its face. 'Take them down whenever you have a clear shot! They may pick an easier target if we give them a tough time!'

_And kill everyone else. _It was easy, as a Hogwarts alumni, to think of Hogsmeade as nothing more than the series of shops and distractions she visited once a term. But there were more than businesses here; this was the only fully-magical settlement in the country. People lived here. Families. Children. The screaming outside was mixed with the growling shrieks of the Inferi, and she could only imagine the chaos out there. A golden glow crept through the holes in their barricade, and Rose knew something was on fire. Perhaps a ploy to fight them. Perhaps something was going wrong.

A window smashed from upstairs, joined by panicked yells, and Rose's head snapped to the door. 'Selena! Reinforce them!' She reflected, as Selena darted for the stairs, that her friend was a truly unremarkable witch in terms of magical prowess. And yet experience and determination made her one of the most valuable people in this room.

Another crack of breaking wood, a whole chunk of a table broken away by grasping hands, and then there were three Inferi trying to pull themselves into the pub through the tiny hole. Beyond them, Hogsmeade was a sea of blazing flames, bone-white figures loping up and down the road, and more and more the witches and wizards Rose could see were still, unmoving. She shoved the implications of that from her mind, and send a gout of fire at the foremost Inferi. It curled at the edges around the anti-flame wards Selena had set up, though she saw that magic crackle and knew it wouldn't hold forever, and the first monstrous corpse fell back with a howl.

The next lunged, clawed hands swiping only inches away from her when she jerked back, then another wand sliced down to crack through flesh and bone and the arm was severed at the elbow.

'We've got to block that!' Hector yelled as he lowered his wand and brandished a shattered length of table like a shield. As if breaking a defensive line of Chasers, he charged the oncoming Inferi, slamming into them with the broad barrier of wood, and sent them all falling back into the street. He kept his shoulder there, pinning the wood in place as Rose and a couple of his Quidditch teammates began to tether it to the rest of the barricade, block the gap. But before the last side could be secured, another clawed, white hand punched through, and scraping nails scoured a bloody length across Hector's back.

Rose's heart lunged into her throat as he screamed and fell, and then she was there in the breach, her wand sending blazing energies through flesh to the Inferi's bone. The spell was so forceful that the fire ran the length of the arm to consume the whole creature, and then they were slamming the wood into place again, and the breach was blocked.

Hector collapsed on his front onto one of the benches, groaning. His shirt was ripped and soaked in blood at the four, perfect gouges cut through his flesh. 'Bastard things!'

The wounds were not that deep. But then, Matt hadn't been wounded at all on Brillig, just exposed to the Inferi in enough up close and personal fighting to be infected. _It__'s not Eridanos. It might be different_. But Rose couldn't imagine why the Council of Thorns would make their plague _less _infectious.

'Rose!' That was Selena, thundering down the stairs, as white as one of the Inferi. 'We've got a problem. There are Thornweavers out there.'

Colonel Raskoph was a complete lunatic, but there was one thing to be said for his particular brand of zealotry. An adherent of the hundred year-old teachings of Grindelwald, as he'd risen through the ranks of the Council of Thorns he had organised them, turned them from rag-tag mercenaries into something disciplined. That included their new names, and it included the masks.

These were not the distinctive, stylised masks of the Death Eaters, where rich purebloods took pleasure in making themselves unique even while they were anonymous. These were black, with wide, round, dark lenses at the eyes, and the only colour and decoration came from the white symbol at the forehead, the five-spoked sun-wheel. With the robes they wore, long and dark and flowing, they made for a shadowy, impressive sight. Rose was glad Castagnary had operated too much with the pretense of being a regular member of society for him and his subordinates to dress like that. But it meant they had their final confirmation of what was happening here, tonight.

'That's impossible,' Madam Rosmerta snapped. This was apparently the last straw as her pub was wrecked around her. 'They're just backward idiots squatting in South America!'

'You're free to tell them that!' said Selena.

There was a thud at the front barricade, quite unlike the impact of an Inferi's body on wood. Then another, and another, and Rose realised someone was _knocking_.

'There's a Muggle story,' came a woman's voice from the other side. There was a slight accent Rose could not place, and the moaning of the Inferi around them continued, but they sounded calm, collected. 'I will spare you the specifics, but for those of you familiar: "Little pigs, little pigs…"'

'_Get back_!' Rose yelled, just as the barricade was blasted in. Shattered wood sprayed her, the impact forcing her staggering back. She would have fallen, but Selena was there, keeping her up and dragging her away from the worst of the wave. Other patrons were knocked over, faces and arms scratched by the splinters, and then came the gust of the cold air of Hogsmeade at night as there was no barricade or window to keep it out. It came with the gagging stench of rotting, of burning flesh, of the metallic tang of blood, and brought with it the moans and screams on the breeze. And with that, the Inferi lunged through the broken barricade, and into the Three Broomsticks.

Rose fought to keep her footing and lifted her wand, but Selena grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back, away from the thronging of people and towards the rear exit. 'It's done!' Selena snapped. 'It's over!'

'But these -'

'Every bugger for themselves!'

And she was right. The Inferi had not been discouraged by the barricades of the pub; they seemed enthused by the challenge, and all the more bloodthirsty and willing to unleash their fury. The echoes of the shattered barricade were soon enough replaced by gut-wrenching screams.

'We can fight -'

'And die!' Selena swept the barricade at the untouched back door away with a slash of the wand and then the two of them were falling into the alleyway that ran behind the Three Broomsticks, dark and, for now, empty. 'We need to go.'

'Hogwarts.' Rose looked up and down the road to get her bearings. 'This way!'

They ran, shoulder to shoulder with wands brandished. Some of the patrons from the Three Broomsticks had followed them, but not enough, not nearly enough, and Rose didn't look back. They ducked into another small alleyway, and another, but wherever they went they could see the glows of spot-fires from blazing buildings, hear the moans of the Inferi, the sounds of battle, and the screams of the dead and dying.

'We've got to cross a road,' Rose said at last, and at the next narrow alleyway corner, she almost tripped over the body. It was still and small, clad in night-clothes, and she didn't want to _think _how young this child was. But the moment of stumbling, of Selena hauling her onward with a gasp of surprise which was almost a sob, meant they were for that critical moment distracted from their defences.

Which was when the Stuns slammed into them from the main road.

Stars flew in front of Rose's vision as she hit the wall and fell like a sandbag. By the sound of it, Selena was no better off, and then the tall, looming shapes of the Thornweavers were above them, wands extended.

'Get her - the blonde one, it's _her _he wants.' It was the woman who'd broken the Three Broomsticks' defences, and Rose gritted her teeth and tried to fight through the Stun, but she'd dropped her wand and didn't have a chance.

She heard the muffled protest from Selena, saw the bigger Thornweaver pick her up and sling her over a shoulder, then they turned to the woman. 'What about _her_?'

'She's useless.'

'She's the Weasley girl -'

'So killing her here sends a message. Get Rourke out.'

Tromping footsteps, a shadow disappearing, and Rose tried to stop her vision from spinning long enough to focus on the Thornweaver stood over her, wand levelled at her face. She didn't want to _see _her own death, exactly, but it would be nice to not die utterly witless.

_I__'ll come back…_

A fizz of magic. A yelp from the Thornweaver. And then spells flew through the air, a frantic and angry duel, and the Thornweaver was being pushed back, back. Then a fresh spark of magic, a slashing spell she saw crack into the Thornweaver's throat with a spray of blood.

The woman fell, and still Rose could not move, but then there was a new shadow over her, a gloved hand at her shoulder. 'You're alright,' they hissed, words too low to be more than breath. She couldn't see their face, hidden under the shadows of darkness and a hood, and then there was a new voice from behind them, a voice she _did _recognise.

'Leave her there,' said Prometheus Thane, stood in the alleyway behind her saviour. 'The Ministry's on their way; she'll be fine.'

The Stun was _not _lifted as the figure got to their feet and bounded off with Thane. Shouting from around her was changing its pitch, screams of fear turning to bellowed spells and commands, the terror subsiding, the growling subsiding, the sound of slaughter turning to battle turning to nothing.

And so that was where the Aurors found Rose, ten minutes later: in a dark alleyway in a corner of Hogsmeade, alone save the body of the dead Thornweaver, and with neither Selena Rourke nor Prometheus Thane in sight.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And finally the plot kicks down the door!_

_I should have more ruminations. Possibly about the proper way to decant a Beaujolais and what sort of glass it should be drunk from (spoilers: not a whiskey tumbler). Selena's using shorthand; specifically she's brought a Beaujolais Nouveau. A Beaujolais's a very light-bodied red wine from the Burgundy region, though it's distinctive enough to not be lumped in with other Burgundy wines. The Nouveau is commonly the first French wine to be released each year, and you drink it young, generally for easy drinking rather than Heavy Wine Appreciation._

_Yes, I'm taking the piss out of myself and my usual historical addenda here. But I do like wine almost as much as I like history._

_I__'ll settle for talking about the symbol worn by the Thornweavers, the five-spoked sun-wheel; that is indeed meant to be at least similar to the Black Sun design, which has ties to Nazi occultism. 'Cos I'm being super subtle in painting Raskoph as a bad guy._


	6. Again to Come

**Again to Come**

Dawn brought smoke and death.

She picked her way down the main road of Hogsmeade, her father next to her, and watched as the Ministry relief squad extinguished the last fires, tended to the townsfolk, and cleared away the bodies. Bone-white monstrosities lay next to the bundled forms of witches and wizards who had not run fast enough, red blood mingling with corrupted black ichor and trickling together in the gaps in the cobbles.

Rose looked at her father's face as they entered the main square, dominated by the huge white tent of the field hospital, and knew he, for all his war experience, had never seen anything like this either.

'Hell's teeth,' Ron Weasley muttered. 'They really did a number on this place.'

'Not just here.' Harry was detaching from the main thronging of Ministry workers in the middle of the square, and headed over to join them. He looked pale and worn, and Rose would swear more grey hairs had sprung up at his temples overnight. 'This was a coordinated strike. The Council simultaneously hit locations all over the world.' He handed over sheafs of paper.

Rose's gut remained numb and calm as she looked at the staring, motionless picture of Joachim Raskoph, Colonel of the Thule Society, leader of the Council of Thorns and the Brazilian magical government, and now the scourge of the international wizarding world.

'_Today is a day of reckoning for all your sins, all your weakness. None shall doubt our power or resolve. From the ashes of your decadence, a new world of purity shall rise,' _she read, and realised her guts would rebel if she tried to swallow any more of the venomous bile.

'A handful of capital cities,' Harry was saying. 'Other magical hotspots. Avignon. Old Charleston. Trier. But Moscow, too. Countless more. They've been raising Inferi and striking with Thornweavers alongside them, marshaling their movements. The magical town they struck in Sicily's actually been _wiped out_. This is not over.'

'This is the point where I'm meant to look at you, all serious-faced, and say something like, "it's only just beginning," isn't it.' Ron's eyes bore no humour, only a dull kind of determination, and he put a hand to Rose's shoulder and kept his grip firm.

'How many people are dead?' said Rose, voice tight.

Harry gave her a look like he didn't want to answer, and then seemed to remember who he was talking to. 'Eighty-three dead, a hundred more wounded.'

'Those were Inferi like with Eridanos, you need to burn the bodies, you need to quarantine -'

'Hogsmeade _is _under quarantine; Hermione got her team back together and they're clamping down on this area. The same old procedures. They know what they're doing. Nobody else comes in or leaves, and Professor Lockett's on the scene trying to figure out this new illness.'

Rose looked between them with twisting horror. 'And you're _here_ when you might be infected -'

'It was a scramble,' said Ron. 'Attacks on Hogsmeade, that's all we knew. Only volunteers with experience were shipped in once we realised what was going on. So while your mother and Lockett and their people worry about Eridanos or whatever this is, we're making sure there's no more trouble.'

She hadn't heard that, 'we might be doomed but in the meantime let's get on with it,' sentiment in years, and she certainly wasn't used to hearing it from her father. He and her mother and Uncle Harry had probably mastered this decades ago, but it was another incident of being treated like an equal by her parents, and the fact that this happened most often during threats to life and limb was not comforting.

'There _is _no trouble,' sighed Harry. 'Fires are put out. Bodies are being cleared. Survivors are being found and checked out. We've got a whole line of Enforcers at the quarantine perimeter, keeping people out, and Apparition, Portkey, and Floo remain locked down. We're gathering reports, but all we can do is wait.'

'Speaking of reports,' said Rose, 'I assume there's nothing yet on Selena.'

Ron grimaced. 'We're sending out word as discreetly as possible, but the Council of Thorns aren't yet bragging about capturing the Chairman of the IMC's daughter.'

'We'llput the pressure on, at home and abroad,' said Harry, 'and we _will _find her.'

'Does her mother know?'

'Hermione told her. Right before she came down with the task force. She's… apparently dealing with it by calling an emergency summit of the IMC. I get the impression that their disbandment has come to a sudden halt.'

'We're going to need them,' said Ron stoutly. 'Minister Halvard's a bloody pencil-pusher with no idea how to handle a crisis. The Ministry's become a dog-and-pony show under him - we need some decisive leadership and if the Council are striking internationally, we need international unity.'

'Which makes me all the more concerned,' said Harry, calmer, 'that the Council snatched Lillian Rourke's daughter the same night as they made this strike.'

'It's not the most opaque plan in the world,' Rose pointed out, then drew a deep breath. 'What about Thane?'

'I have no idea what he was doing here,' said Ron, tense. 'His ties with the Council of Thorns are well-and-truly severed.'

'His people killedthat Thornweaver who was going to kill me; she was in charge of the break-in at the Three Broomsticks. She clearly had some smarts, if not authority. They most absolutely were _not _here to work _with _the Council.'

'And yet they were here before the Ministry was.' Harry shook his head. 'It doesn't surprise me Thane still has contacts in the Council. You don't become that successful a murderer of their leaders without really good intelligence.'

'We'll look into him, too, Rosie. I promise.'

Rose glanced at her father. 'The Council of Thorns has kidnapped Selena Rourke and are making terror strikes with an army of Inferi all over the world. Prometheus Thane will forever be your _second _priority.' They looked like they'd argue, even if it was fruitless, so she pressed on. 'Do we know where they got the bodies from?'

'For the Inferi?' said Harry. 'Reports are coming in of a Muggle village about twenty miles north of here being… not there any more. A really small place in the Highlands, but it would account for the forty or so Inferi.'

A fizzing, light-headed feeling crept behind Rose's temples. 'You need more information to know the incubation period -'

'Rose.' That was her father again, his hand still on her shoulder. 'It's okay. The professionals are on this. They're checking it all out, they know all the procedures, and for anything we _don__'t _know, they're going through the process to find out. All you need to do is wait.'

She spotted a figure behind them, emerging from the snow-white medical tent that stood in such stark contrast to the ruins of Hogsmeade village, and decided to not argue. 'I… I'm going to the medical tent. I want to check the casualty lists.'

It wasn't really a lie, and her father and uncle let her go, probably so they didn't have to explain more of these world-shattering facts to her. It was nothing new, nothing she hadn't faced before, and her lack of shock and horror, her acceptance of this descent back into the days she could understand, was likely unsettling them.

She didn't care. There was a fire sparking in her bones, like she'd just downed a week's worth of coffee and parts of her that had been asleep forever were waking up. Chaos was come again, but Rose Weasley _knew _how to deal with chaos. It was peace that had been so troublesome.

'I see you've swapped vices,' she said to the figure stood outside the medical tent as they sparked up a cigarette.

Nat Lockett looked guiltily from cigarette to Rose - and then had a long, satisfying puff. 'I'd offer you one, but your father and uncle are right thereand that would be the least classy thing.'

'I have to put up with Matt's cigars. No thank you.' Rose looked her up and down. 'How've you been?'

'Oh, don't indulge me, Weasley. Ask the questions you want to ask.' Her shoulders were squared, stiff, and she looked like she'd been dragged across the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade face-first for hours. Emergency research on a plague responsible for countless deaths and which could inflict countless more was probably a similar experience.

'Alright.' That was better. Rose didn't really care how Nat Lockett was doing. She was just another person who'd run away from their problems, and though she didn't feel abandoned by someone she'd never turned to for support in the first place, that shred of resentment that _she__'d _lost Scorpius, too, and had faced the music, wormed away in her. 'Is this infectious?'

Lockett had a drag on her cigarette. 'On a par with Eridanos. In fact, it's almost identical to Eridanos. Almost.'

'What're the differences?'

'It protects the minds of the Inferi better, stops them from rotting away, but also includes a mental compulsion element. They're smarter, but that makes it easier for witches and wizards with the right spells to control them. Like reports are saying the Thornweavers were doing last night.'

Rose drew a deep breath, and their eyes met. 'So this is Lethe.'

Lockett blew out smoke through her nose. There was a long pause before she answered. 'Based on the information extracted from those few members of the Council of Thorns captured in Ager Sanguinis, and the research notes dug out of there… yes. Yes, it's Lethe.'

She had to look away. 'So they found another way.'

'It's been over two years, Weasley. There was always going to be more than just the Chalice to let them -'

'Is there a cure?' As quickly as control had wavered, she grabbed it again, snapped it back into place as she looked Lockett in the eye.

'It took about three months,' said Lockett, 'but we got the Resurrection Stone off Brillig Island. It's being put to work. By midday, I'd expect everyone here to be clear. We'll begin some decon procedures and letting people out of quarantine within the hour.'

'You say "we" got the Resurrection Stone out of Brillig.' Accusation slipped into her voice, but this was not hot, overwhelming emotion - just cold, hard fact. 'Except you didn't. You were gone.'

Lockett's gaze didn't leave hers. 'The Stygian Plagues were wiped out. I had no responsibility to anyone. I was free to go anywhere, do anything.'

'How does your husband feel about this?'

A cool, calm drag on the cigarette. 'I don't think that'sany of your business.'

Rose brushed errant hair, escaping its plait after the night's chaos, out of her face, her eyes flashing. 'If Lethe gets the better of the world, if this continues,' she said, 'then he died for nothing. You know that?' Maybe control had _not _been snapped back into place.

Lockett flicked her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. 'I'm going back to work,' she said, voice devoid of inflection. 'Hector Flynn's alive, by the way. Apparently he crawled under a table and the Inferi ignored him while they had moving people to chase. He's beat up and infected, but we can deal with both of those things.' She slipped her pack of cigarettes into a pocket, then hesitated. 'A lot of people in the Three Broomsticks got out. The main bulk of the Inferi and Thornweavers had moved on to softer targets by the time they broke through your barricades, if I'm judging the reports properly. You and Rourke did well.'

Rose's throat went dry as her accusation was met with reassurance. 'I just told you…'

Lockett clasped her arm. The gesture was the awkward move of someone unaccustomed to overt displays of affection, but the sentiment was unmistakable - at the least, Nat Lockett never did something like that out of a sense of obligation. 'It's okay. And things are going to be okay, you know that?'

She'd been told that a hundred times before, but somehow, this time, the words started to settle that gathering storm. She did not find an answer before Lockett gave her a tense half-smile and returned to the tent. So all she could now was wait. Rose sighed, turned around, and walked flat into Albus.

'Woah -' He reached out, strong arms steadying her, and already guilt crept into his gaze. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up.'

She gawped. 'What're you _doing _here?'

'I broke in,' he said, and the words seemed so alien on Al's lips that she just stared at him. 'There's no evidence that our immunities don't work -'

'We have no concept of this new illness,' Rose blurted out. 'Our immunities could be _useless_.'

'Are you clean?'

'I - yes, but -'

'Even after this pitched battle?'

Rose let out a slow breath that quavered with the lingering anger. 'It's still irresponsible.'

'Maybe.' Albus released his hold, eyes roaming over her. 'I was woken up by this in the middle of the night, and when Mum said you were here as well, when the news came in with the Council's strikes, I came up.'

'_Why_?'

'Because I'm not losing anyone else.'

His words were low but ardent, and held that streak of honest determination bordering on naivety she hadn't realised she'd missed. She looked up and dropped her voice. 'The Council has Selena.'

He tensed. 'Leads?'

'I don't know. They grabbed her and almost killed me. They would have done, if it hadn't been for -' She caught her words before the wave got away from her. 'Thane was here. Hesaved me. I don't know why.'

'I don't pretend to understand anything Prometheus Thane has been doing for the last two years. That man follows his own agenda, and I'm starting to suspect his agenda is "money" if he's targeting Council members and IMC representatives alike.' Al shook his head. 'The criminal underworld isn't all enamoured with the Council. They could be paying him.'

'Maybe. But what's he doing _here_? What did he know was going down, and what was he trying to achieve, if he's no friend of the Council's?'

'I don't know. But are _you _okay?'

'I'm fine.' Rose gave up on her patch-jobs on her hair, setting about tying it back afresh just to get the errant strands out of the way. 'I was Stunned, which I'm really sick of happening to me, and fell over, and had some wrangles with Inferi, but I'm uninjured.' The shock at seeing him was wearing off, and the rifts they'd torn up over the years started to loom once again. She took a step back. 'Your Dad's going to be pissed.'

'I think I'm beyond mundane disappointment from him. I wasn't going to wait at home.'

She tilted up her chin. 'So _now _you come for me.'

Albus' expression creased, but he cut off his first reply with a long, steadying breath. 'There's a big crowd at the outskirts of the quarantine. Matt's there. I avoided him or he'd have wanted to break in with me -'

'How _did _you get in?' she asked, because it was easier than thinking about Matt.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, more toned after two and a half hard years than they'd been from just natural size and Quidditch. 'I've got a bit more experience in being places people don't want me to be.'

'You still have the Invisibility Cloak, don't you.'

'Well. Yes.' He winced. 'But, Matt's out there and he looked… worried. I mean, of course he's worried, but…'

It was a peace offering and an apology and an acceptance of her relationship, and even after two years of separation she knew Albus well enough to recognise it. But she wasn't ready to answer, so instead said, 'We'll need to go through decon to get out.'

'Then let's go,' he said, 'and I can avoid Dad knowing I did this.'

She gave Harry Potter's tall, broad-shouldered, highly recognisable son a long look, and decided to not break his heart and point out _someone _was going to recognise him and mention it. Instead she said, 'Decon will be ready soon. We can head for the perimeter.'

The southern parts of Hogsmeade were in a less terrible condition. The Inferi had come from the north and so that was where the bulk of the devastation was, where most of the fighting had taken place. The fires had started as wizards panicked and used the weapons they were told to wield against the Inferi, only for flames to get out of control. On the one hand, it had likely contained a large part of the onslaught.

On the other, it had left its mark upon the village. By fire or by incursion, houses sat in ruins, at best with their windows broken, at worst as smoldering ruins and most somewhere in between. The Inferi had tremendous, monstrous strength; enough to rip off doors, rip apart wooden walls, but the desolation was less and less the closer to the perimeter they got.

It was another half-hour before the task force had the decontamination procedures in place, and that took an hour, much like the old Eridanos procedures. Rose and Albus went through it in a stiff silence, but they could hear the crowds on the other side of the tent, the Enforcer-manned perimeter barrier making sure the quarantine held strong.

And it was into that crowd they were released after a mind-numbing hour - a crowd of panicked relatives, concerned onlookers, but press, too, and too many people who could recognise them and decide they were worthy of their attention. Rose squinted as the flashing of bulbs from the press began their onslaught. She took a step away from Albus as he looked like he was going to put a protective arm around her shoulder, and pushed on. 'It's been a long night,' was all she called to the reporters, 'and I'd _really _like to go home. I'm sure official comments will be issued.'

Al, for his part, had a harder time of it; his absence had left at least a flutter in the media, though nothing headline worthy. But timing his return with the sudden resurgence of mass-violence from the Council of Thorns was worth the press' attention, and he had to wave off question after question until they were intercepted by a formidable figure that swept the journalists away with an angry wave of the hand.

'You have _received _the official pronouncements from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' Hermione Granger snapped, taking both her daughter and nephew by the arm and leading them through the crowd towards yet more of those dour white Ministry tents. 'Chairman Rourke is due to speak here in five minutes, and I'm _sure _you can get your answers then!'

This didn't silence the jackals, nor did it stop the staring of the masses kept at bay from Britain's only fully magical settlement, now the site of Britain's biggest magical catastrophe since the Second War. But Hermione was followed by Enforcers who helped bully them through the crowds and to the tents, and Rose burst inside yet another white canopy with a sense of release and relief like she'd just surfaced after drowning.

'You should have told your father you were leaving!' Hermione said. All around, Ministry officials checked charts, papers, talked to worn survivors, and Rose caught a glimpse of a world map with more red markers on it than she wanted to count. This place was command and control for responding to more than just the Hogsmeade crisis. 'He would have given you an Enforcer escort to _avoid _that!'

'He's busy. I didn't want to bother him more,' Rose lied tiredly, but her mother was rounding on Albus already.

'And I don't know what _you _were doing in there!'

When she'd turned on him, Albus had initially taken a step back - as was common for anyone confronted with Hermione Granger's tired fervour - but he squared his shoulders as she snapped. 'I know exactly what I was doing; I'm not a child.'

'You broke a quarantine set up _for your own safety_, and for what? What were you going to do inside?'

'Make sure the people I care about are alright, because the IMC and the Ministry of Magic have done such a _bang-up _job of that in the past?' He pointed at the smoldering silhouette of Hogsmeade visible through the flap of the tent.

Rose watched her mother jolt as if struck, and she stepped over. 'Enough!' she snapped. 'Both of you! Albus, you _were _being bloody silly, but he's _right_, Mum, we're _not _children!' They subsided with expressions of indignation and hurt, and she looked around the command centre again. 'This is global?'

'It is,' said Hermione, thin-lipped. 'They have to have been planning this for months. Lethe - they've confirmed that name - has to have been shipped globally, stored in Council-aligned locations. They've synchronised its release on communities, usually isolated Muggle settlements, in order to kill and raise them as Inferi they can control, and they've unleashed them all, the same night, on the wizarding world.'

Albus looked to the world map. 'And not just in sheltered places.'

'To say the Statute of Secrecy is _strained _is an understatement. Most attacks have been in places like Hogsmeade, the small wizarding communities. But in Avignon, for instance, the Inferi were drawn from urban Muggle populace and released on the magic district. It wasn't a lot of them, but it didn't need to be in that confined a space, and a couple of Inferi went on to escape into the broader populace.'

'Has the Council gone _completely _mad?' Rose asked. 'I mean, mass murder, sure, they did that with Eridanos for months. But that was always in isolated places, and that wasn't as much about killing people as it was spreading fear.'

'The death toll's still coming in,' said Hermione. 'But I would be astonished if the results were less than a thousand dead witches and wizards. And that's before we factor in how many people died to become Inferi in the first place.'

Rose's throat tightened. 'And _we__'re _dealing with Hogsmeade because we have Lockett, and the Resurrection Stone - most of the rest of the world doesn't have a cure.'

'The Resurrection Stone is not unique in its qualities - at least, in the qualities which mean it can provide a cure for Stygian Plagues. Avignon isn't as bad as it could be, because they have Glanis' Spring in Glanum nearby; those waters have provided a base for the French cure, and they can and have been distributing those waters across Europe. But… people will be dying while that's happening.'

Albus' brow furrowed. 'I don't see what they expect -'

He was cut off by a new voice, agitated, determined. 'I don't _care _- look, I'm fully prepared to make your life difficult if you don't _let me in _-'

Rose turned, and her heart lunged into her throat to see Matt stood in the entrance, squaring off against the tall shape of an Enforcer blocking his way. Before she could do anything, Hermione stepped up, lifting a hand. 'It's alright! Let him in, thank you.'

Matt didn't thank or acknowledge the Enforcer when he moved. His gaze locked on Rose and he flew across the distance to drag her into an embrace which was as smothering as it was comforting, and all she could do was clutch at him for long, foundation-shaking moments. 'Thank God…'

'I'm okay. I'm okay,' she murmured into his shoulder, voice muffled, because for several heartbeats she couldn't say anything else. And then the throat-clenching terror rose when she realised what she was going to have to tell him, and it took an effort for her to pull back enough to look him in the eye. 'Matt… they took Selena. The Council has her.'

She hadn't realised she'd dreaded this. The relationship between Matt and Selena was one she'd never understood, and she knew she'd never asked the questions because everything remained calm and stable for _her_. It had been too much to handle when she'd been grieving; shouldering someone else's woes was beyond her, and by the time she was in a state to be a friend to either of them about it, whatever rules were established had sprung up. They were unspoken, and they kept them apart, and all she knew was that there was a deep, deep sense of hurt and betrayal on both sides.

All colour drained from Matt's face. 'What?'

'They had Thornweavers in the streets; they intercepted us, Stunned me, took her.' The fact that she'd almost died sounded like a hollow thing to say then. She _hadn__'t_. Selena _was _in danger, possibly dead, certainly with no kind fate in store at the hands of the Council of Thorns and Raskoph.

A roar came from the crowd outside, a mixture of enthusiasm, fear, hunger, and Hermione looked to the flap. 'That'll be Lillian Rourke starting her speech.'

'Speech?' Albus looked blank.

Hermione's lips thinned. 'She's the Chairman of the IMC. The IMC is going to see a resurgence in power, authority, control - it's the best organisation in the world to fight the Council of Thorns now this has happened. I know Lillian Rourke. There'll be a call to arms, to remind people that we have the pieces in play _to _fight this war.'

Matt looked to the tent flap, grey eyes going hollow. 'She knows about Selena?'

'She does. But it's not being made public, and the Council aren't bragging about it yet - investigations will be made, but we're not going to -'

He didn't wait for Hermione to finish, just let go of Rose and turned to the tent flap. 'I'll be back. I've got to - I'll be back.'

Rose felt her fingertips tingle with emptiness as he left, that harbour slipping away, but then someone in the command tent - too entrenched in their work to even step outside and watch a speech, needing to stay linked to the affairs of the day - turned on the wireless. Lillian Rourke's voice, a faint, incomprehensible noise at this mundane distance, was amplified and echoed by the transmission.

'…_may be a grim day. But I remind you all that this is nothing our country, our people, our world, hasn__'t faced before. We will bury our fallen, grieve for the lost, clear our ruins. But we will rebuild, we will reinforce, and we shall fight. Darkness falls, but it has fallen before, and each and every time the light has prevailed. I promise you that it will prevail again._

'_Before I arrived, I called for an emergency summit of the International Magical Convocation. I had thought our work was done. I see now that I was wrong. So long as threats like the Council of Thorns challenge the world, the International Magical Convocation shall remain, and it shall remain strong. People from across the globe will come together, will unite, and will - as one strong force, with one clear voice - bring down those who threaten our way of life._

'_They call us decadent. I say we are united. They call us weak - I say that we will change to face every evil, rise and rise again against all opposition. They say a reckoning has come, and they are right - but when the dust settles, it will be they…'_

'She likes these,' Albus murmured wryly.

'People need a strong example.' Rose frowned. 'The Ministry's in no state to fight this in Britain, let alone the world.'

'And her daughter's been kidnapped,' Hermione admonished. 'I assure you that there is _nothing _here Lillian Rourke likes.'

The speech carried on in much the same vein, no doubt being piped across the world by the wireless, and Rose suspected that if she could get past the thunderous memories of a dark alleyway in Hogsmeade, Selena's struggling shape being dragged off, the Thornweaver looming over her, she would have found it inspiring. The crowds roared with questions and cheers when she was done, so Rose reasoned the rhetoric _had _to work, _had _to encourage, and if politics were giving people hope in these times, she couldn't argue.

The press threw their questions, Lillian answered them, and within ten minutes she was leaving the roaring crowds. There was a strange moment where the wireless sounded like it was narrating their existence, as a reporter spoke of her leaving the podium and returning to work, just as Lillian Rourke stormed into the command tent.

'Updates,' barked the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation.

'Avignon is distributing the waters of the Glanis Spring across Europe,' Hermione rattled off. 'Old Charleston is being supported by the Greengrass Network…'

Al frowned and leaned in to Rose. 'The Greengrass Network?' he whispered.

'Astoria funds and manages a relief program in North America,' Rose mumbled, and watched his expression set. He didn't need it explaining why Scorpius' mother had taken a suddenly more active role in the dangers to the world.

'But we suspect,' Hermione continued, 'several Inferi may have bypassed their perimeter and are on the loose in the general -'

'For _God__'s _sake.' Lillian stalked to the map on the wall. 'Get Potter and a team over to the US, show those Yanks how it's done -'

'Harry's still in Hogsmeade. As is Ron.'

'_Someone _competent in the Auror department right_ now_, then. Savage, Cole, Proudfoot, and Potter can be over there as _soon _as he's out. That needs _containing_.'

Another Ministry official looked up from their paperwork. 'Is it still legal for us to dispatch British Aurors to a foreign state without request -'

Lillian rounded on the unfortunate bureaucrat. 'I'm reactivating all of the emergency powers of the IMC, and if anyone wants to argue with that, we can debate it once there _aren__'t _Inferi roaming around South Carolina. And at worst I will Floo the Department of Magic and _tell _them to invite our Aurors over.' She turned back to Hermione, and immediately her demeanour was calm, cool, in control again. 'Continue.'

But before Hermione could press on, the tent flap was shoved open and in strode Matt Doyle. 'Ms Rourke! You're aware of the situation with your daughter?'

Lillian's gaze turned on Matt, icy. 'Of course I am.'

Matt stood tall, unperturbed. 'And what's your plan for getting her back?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'It's highly unlikely she's in Britain still. So information's being passed on to the European authorities, especially the German Schattenjägers, to monitor movements -'

'There's not a law enforcement body in the world as good as Britain's Aurors; this needs Potter, this needs their best -'

'Britain's _best _need to stop Inferi in South Carolina from killing wizard and Muggle locals and breaking the Statute -'

'And the Americans can't deal with that?'

Lillian's nostrils flared. 'Apparently not! But this is an _international _crisis and so we must pool our _international resources_, and I must assign them in the most efficient manner.'

'Which means _not _rescuing your daughter.'

Rose flew to Matt's side and grabbed his elbow. 'Matt, this isn't - we should go.'

Lillian was glaring daggers at him, but Matt didn't bat an eyelid, and just gave Rose a jerking nod. 'Yeah. We should. Al, we can catch up, too.'

It was an odd thing to say, but nobody seemed opposed to the grouchy nineteen year-olds leaving IMC's Hogsmeade Command Centre. Albus looked nonplussed, but went at Hermione's nod, and the three of them trooped out of the tent, into the lowlands outside of Hogsmeade.

The majority of the crowd was dispersing, becoming nothing more than friends and family waiting on those inside the quarantine, and only the dregs of the press lingered. They had more fish to fry, at home and abroad, with the implications of Lillian Rourke's speech, and so the trio received only fleeting glances as they left.

Matt led them towards clumps of trees further south, away from enquiring eyes and listening ears. He'd changed, Rose noticed, into his long waxed coat, the hilt of his sword a metal gleam at his hip, and altogether walked with a tension in his shoulders she hadn't seen in a long time.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she followed. 'Matt, that _really _wasn't fair -'

'To hell with the IMC,' Matt growled. 'Lillian Rourke's a bloody politician first and foremost; you heard her, she's worrying about the fate of the world, not the fate of Selena.'

'She _is _the head of the IMC -'

'Yes, and fine. That's her job. The Council probably abducted Selena to _try _to divert Lillian, to make her a less effective leader, and she's not letting them get to her. She's doing her job, she's worrying about the USA instead of her daughter, and that's fine for the IMC, but it doesn't do Selena much good, does it?'

'Does yelling at her?' Rose pointed out, Albus trailing behind with the awkward air of one being dragged in as a third wheel witness to a domestic row.

'I wanted to be sure. Now I'm sure.' Matt stopped under trees dripping with early morning drizzle, and turned to them. 'The IMC can't afford to treat Selena as a priority. So we must.'

Albus and Rose exchanged glances, then Al looked to Matt. 'What're you saying?'

'I'm saying we need to take action.' His jaw clenched. 'Yes, I'm asking the two of you to gear up again, grab your wands, and throw yourselves face-first into danger, because we _all _know that nobody is going to take care of _one of ours _as well as we will.'

'Hunt the Council ourselves, again,' said Rose, voice going numb.

'Find _Selena_. To hell with the Council.'

Albus drew a slow breath, then gave a short, jerking nod. 'Fine. I'm in.'

'Good.' Matt looked at Rose.

'I can't be _in_,' said Rose, scowling, 'on some half-baked, idealistic blathering about how we're going to take the fight to the Council of Thorns, attack them ourselves, rescue Selena ourselves, when we don't have the slightest idea where she is, what they intend, or what their resources are.'

'We don't know those things,' Matt conceded, 'yet. But we can find out, I promise you. I'll explain everything. But first I need to know if you _want _this. If you want to take action.'

Rose jerked at the hot flash of indignation in her gut. 'Don't you two dare stand there like I'm _not_ the only one of us who's been a consistent bloody friend to Selena the last three years. Of course I want her back. But I will not ride off without a plan.'

He extended a hand, and her anger subsided as she saw the relieved creasing at the corners of his eyes. 'Then come with me,' said Matt, 'and not only will I explain why we stand a chance, but you can also make _sure _this isn't half-baked.'

'Just because I'm on board,' said Albus, 'doesn't mean I'm doing this group hand-holding thing, as that's a bit desperate.'

_Times change. Once, he__'d have been the first for us to do that team-bonding, _Rose reflected as Matt gave a low, wry chuckle, and instead pulled out his wand to conduct this mass, side-along apparition to wherever these answers lay.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I did more world building! First things first, __'Schattenjäger' is not a cool name for German Aurors I can take credit for. It means 'Shadow Hunters' and I plundered it liberally from the old Gabriel Knight adventure games (they may have had a source, but I don't know what it is). I'm normally not_ that cheap_ in my references, but it's an off-hand mention and I wanted to give them a cooler name._

_Glanum is a real place in Provence, France; it is supposed to be the site of a healing spring associated with Glanis, a healing God of the Gauls._


	7. Heard the Call

**Heard the Call**

'This is your father's warehouse,' said Rose as they appeared with the spinning-_crack _of Apparition in the wide open space. She'd been here before, even if the memories of that day were murky at best. When they'd been rescued from Ager Sanguinis, she hadn't cared to look at her surroundings. But back then it had been a haphazard sort of operation, equipment and people gathered in a frantic mess. Today, the warehouse reminded her of the training and equipment rooms in the MLE's main headquarters down on Canary Wharf. Half-walls partitioned the expanse, and from the low buzz of activity, they were not alone.

'It's not _just _that,' said Matt, and gestured for them to follow him out of the sectioned corner. A pair of wizards sat at a nearby desk, and had observed them keenly until they'd seen him. 'I had to come here first to arrange you clearance.'

'_Clearance_?' Al raised an eyebrow as they tailed him.

'This _is _one of my father's safehouses and operations centres,' said Matt, working his way through the winding network of training rooms, equipment rooms, and desks. 'But it's also the headquarters of the Order of the Knights Templar.'

Rose's heart sunk even more. 'This is going to take quite the explanation.'

'I know.' He sounded apologetic. 'In good time.'

'De Sablé,' said Albus. 'He was there, at Ager Sanguinis.'

Matt nodded, but he didn't say more until they reached the middle section. The wall panels were taller and thicker, adorned with all manner of maps and charts with marks that constantly changed as new information poured in. In the centre was a huge, circular table, at which stood the tall, greying figure of Matt's father, Gabriel Doyle.

He lifted his dark eyes from the papers in front of him and sighed. 'So, you just had to.'

'Dad, I'm not going to sit by. I've been doing that for too long.'

'And you've still been more involved than I'd like.' Gabriel folded his arms across his chest. 'I don't want this getting back to the big guns.'

Albus blinked. 'The big guns?'

'Your parents.'

Rose drew a deep breath. 'What _is _"this"? What's going on? What the hell do you mean about the headquarters of the Knight Templars?'

Gabriel gave his son a reproachful look. 'This is not -'

'You fund this, Dad; they do the work.'

'I fund this, I provide the intelligence -'

'And de Sablé and the others act on it.'

Rose stalked to the table and planted her hands on it, glowering at the Doyles. 'This is still not an explanation.'

Gabriel kept his eyes on Matt. 'You really haven't told her _anything_, have you.' He sounded disapproving.

Matt ignored his father, and gave a slow exhale. 'My father has for years been an information broker of the magical world -'

'I started after the Second War,' Gabriel interjected. 'Through underground contacts and moving in the same social circles, I provided magical law enforcement at home and abroad with intelligence on the Death Eater Remnant. And, after that, sympathetic political entities. Before the Council of Thorns sprung up, I'd had very little to do for about fifteen years.'

'Dad restarted everything then, reforged his international connections to chase information the IMC couldn't or wouldn't gather. It's why he had people at his disposal for the rescue at Ager Sanguinis.'

'Including Reynald de Sablé,' said Rose.

Gabriel nodded. 'After you woke him in Tomar, I sought him out. The Knights Templar historically had a tremendous amount of resources and knowledge at their disposal, resources and knowledge the Council would clearly jump at seizing. I offered de Sablé funding and support to seek any inheritors of the Templar mantle so they could gather it, and keep it out of the Council's hands.'

'The IMC's power - before today - has reduced,' Matt continued. His eyed sparked with enthused light, as if he was talking about some great historical find, but Rose couldn't find it as endearing as she usually did. 'Magical nations have been fighting the Council of Thorns on their own terms for months, because they've thought they don't _need _the IMC's oversight. So we've been here - a united, international front. Gathering information, making strikes.'

'Mostly against their efforts to gain unusual weapons, like their gambit for the golem-dragon in Tomar,' Gabriel said. 'But as we've gathered information, I've made sure it ends up in the right hands. We've had a freedom the IMC hasn't, and so I've used that.'

Albus raised an eyebrow. 'So what now the IMC's power is going to expand again? Even greater than before, if Lillian Rourke's pronouncement is to be believed?'

'Then I will help them. Lillian Rourke's a politician, but she's sick of walking softly,' said Gabriel. 'The IMC was limited before because countries clung to their own power and resisted international oversight. If today's done anything, it'll make people care more about defending themselves from the Council than clinging to their sovereignty. We can worry about _that _when we're not being butchered.'

Rose watched Matt, whose gaze was on the table. He had to feel her eyes on him, though, because he barely shifted when she said, 'And what's been your role in this?'

He stiffened. 'I've fed information to Dad and de Sablé while we've been with Gringotts -'

Gabriel grimaced. 'Matt…'

She'd thought it was a discouragement to talk, but Matt straightened at the reproof and looked at her. 'I've done work for and with de Sablé and the remnant Templars he gathered. He's been reforming the order as people who will guard this sort of power and knowledge from being used for the wrong purposes. And I've helped. With research… in the field…'

Connections formed in Rose's mind and her gut twisted. 'You didn't just get lucky with the lead on Ranisonb's tomb, did you.'

'I _was _lucky.' Matt grimaced. 'But it leapt out at me because I knew it was something the Council of Thorns had looked into.'

'We used our connections,' said Gabriel, 'to get the Curse Breakers to dispatch a team of people we could trust to beat them to it. You.'

'You _knew _the Council would be after us, all along?' Her eyes locked on Matt. 'You didn't _warn _us?'

'You,' Matt corrected, sombre. 'Lowsley and Nejem are de Sablé's people. Our people.'

Albus mumbled, 'Okay,' and took a step back.

Rose spent a moment staring at the wall behind Matt so she didn't scream. Eventually she drew a slow breath and said, 'How long has this been going on?'

Matt's expression sank. 'Since we got back from the Chalice hunt.'

'And you never told me?'

'At the time, you were - I didn't want to bother you with it. I didn't think you'd care. Then I didn't want to _burden _you with it, worry you with it. Then… then it felt like I'd kept it secret for too long.'

'So you kept it secret for even longer.' Her gut was no longer twisting. Instead, her expression and voice were blank as she looked back at Matt and said, 'You have some sort of plan.'

'What?'

'Right here and now. About Selena.'

He looked suspicious, but nodded, and gestured to his father. 'The IMC is caught up doing IMC stuff. Even Lillian Rourke's too caught up with these responsibilities to go after Selena, her own daughter. So I say we go after her ourselves.'

Albus returned to the table now he'd gauged there was not going to be an explosion. 'I assume you have a lead.'

Gabriel took a map down from the wall and spread it across the table. 'Not directly. But this event is only hours old. I have contacts all around the world who might know of Council prisons and the movements of their teams.'

'You have people inside the Council on _your _pay-roll?' said Albus.

'Some,' Gabriel said without pride. 'I don't have a first move yet. I would imagine whoever took Selena is still in transit; the more Portkeys they use, the harder it is to trace them to the source. They'll probably be bouncing across the world, and we will pick up that trail _somewhere_.'

'There's been no public pronouncement,' said Al. 'That bothers me. If Raskoph's snatched the daughter of the IMC's Chairman, why isn't he proclaiming this to the world?'

'They might not know we know,' said Rose. 'I was supposed to be dead. If Thane hadn't shown up and saved me, Selena would just be not yet found in the chaos of Hogsmeade and I'd be an extra body who couldn't tell anyone anything. There were supposed to be no witnesses to her abduction.'

Gabriel nodded. 'Maybe they'll make a pronouncement when they've got her bundled up somewhere secure. Maybe they want to manipulate Lillian Rourke without the world knowing. They'll have an angle.'

'That gives us time before they _do _something with her,' said Al. 'So what we need is one of your people on the inside.'

'The Council of Thorns operates on a very tight cell structure,' Gabriel said. 'They compartmentalise information, and they'll have _all _been busy last night. I'd bet every active Thornweaver's been out causing murder and mayhem across the globe. If none of my contacts have reported information, then we don't have it. So we go to a different information broker. You know him; you've worked with him before.'

Rose frowned. 'I don't remember -'

Albus squinted. 'Baz?'

'Yes. Balthazar Vadimas, who kept the secret that you were alive after Kythos even though he would have been _handsomely _paid. Just in case you were wondering if you could trust him.'

'Scorpius trusted him,' said Albus.

'He's the biggest fish in the underworld; at least, the underworld that isn't working for the Council of Thorns. I can't guarantee he knows anything, but he's where _I__'d _start investigating,' said Gabriel. 'International communication is going to be heavily monitored by the MLE from now. I would recommend heading for Moscow and talking to him.'

Matt raised his eyebrows at his father. 'You're not going to tell me this is a stupid expedition and I shouldn't risk my neck?'

'It is, and you shouldn't,' said Gabriel with a matter-of-fact shrug. 'But I was your age when I fought in the war. And I didn't do that for principles, I did that for my friends. I could be a hypocrite, or I could be pleased that my son has principles and stands by his loyalties.' His gaze swept to Al and Rose as Matt tried to not look too touched. 'I don't trust _your _parents to not be hypocrites. At the least, they're adherents of law and order and them knowing about my operations here forces them to either reveal me to the IMC, or _lie _to their superiors. I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.'

Albus shifted his feet. 'I've been lying a lot to them lately…'

'Then one more lie won't make a difference. And, not to put too fine a point on it, you owe me for Ager Sanguinis. Your parents and the valiant law-and-order of the IMC didn't rescue you from the clutches of the Council.'

Matt tensed. 'Dad…'

Rose swallowed the wave of rage at Gabriel Doyle's audacity, squeezed Al's arm as she saw him tense, and instead said, 'So when do we go to Moscow?'

'I can have a Portkey ready for you by six o' clock tonight. Direct, untraceable.'

'Legal?' said Albus.

Gabriel's dark eyes locked on him. 'As legal as _your_ travels and activities over the past two and a half years, Mister Potter.' He dusted off his hands. 'I'll start getting the charms in place. You'll Portkey from here; bugger the Ministry's security.'

Then he left, and it was just the three of them in the middle of the humming buzz of the warehouse, with Matt rather awkwardly looking at the wall next to Albus. Rose knew he wanted him to go so the two of them could talk, but she wasn't ready to do anything but catch Matt's eye and say, 'Can you get us out of here? We'll need to pack and come up with appropriate lies for our families.'

_They__'re going to love this._

Matt nodded and returned them to the Apparition section of the warehouse, and soon enough they were in the copse near Hogsmeade again. He agreed to pick them up at five and, with a pointed look at Rose she didn't return, whisked back to his father's lair of secrets.

Leaving Rose and Albus stood in a damp copse near the smoldering stones of a Hogsmeade wounded so deeply it would take a generation to heal the scars. Albus had his hands shoved in his pockets, an indolent air about him she'd never seen before, and it was with unusual resentment that he said, 'Two and a half years and he never told you about this?'

_Now _something snapped inside her. 'Is this how it's going to be? You _waltz _in after _abandoning _me for two years and decide to pass judgement on me and my relationship?'

'Somebody has to! Is everyonejust walking around like this is fine? Like you leaping into bed with your ex-boyfriend is the normal way of moving on?'

_Selena didn__'t…_

She'd been awake for over twenty-four hours, got drunk and sobered up, almost been murdered, and was now facing another mad-cap dash across the world to fight dark wizards. The lingering shreds of control, not to mention dignity, shrivelled up and died. 'What about acting like you _abandoning _us for two years is normal? Everyone _else _might be so happy you're back they don't want to explain how badly you hurt us, but you _did_, Al! You hurt your parents, your siblings, and you hurt me! When I needed you, when we could have helped each other, you hurt me! You abandoned me, _again_!'

'You're still pissed at me because of the _Sorting_? Grow up, Rose, not everyone's choices are about you!' Albus' voice rose too, a rumbling anger she wasn't used to seeing from him. 'Everyone rallies around the girl losing the guy she loves. He was my best friend, my brother! But I'm supposed to put _your _problems first?'

'We could have handled them together! Grieved _together_!' Her throat started to close up, and that brought _more _anger, because she didn't want to be sad, weeping, broken. She wanted the fire. 'We set a gravestone with no grave and no body and you _weren__'t there_.'

'I did what I had to do,' snapped Albus, 'for me. So _I _could survive.'

'And that excuse doesn't work both ways? I'm not allowed to do what _I _had to for survival?'

'So that _is _what this relationship is: a coping technique. A way to forget.'

'Forget. _Forget_?' The world narrowed until it was tight and dark, pain filtering everything out except what she could identify as the cause - and right then it was him. She stalked over to jab her finger in his chest. 'It's been over two years and I still wake up _choking _with the thought of him. I can't _smile _without thinking of him, I can't _laugh _without thinking how he'd make me laugh ten times more. I haven't had one positive thought in two years which wasn't soured by remembering _he__'s not here _to share it with me.'

Albus' expression twisted. 'Not even Matt?'

Her heart thudded like it wanted to break out, weeping blood but pumping harder than it had in years. 'With Matt, I'm trying to feel something _other _than pain. I'm trying to feel good without _hating _myself, I'm trying to feel hope without being swallowed by guilt and by grief, and to _hell _with you for throwing that in my face like I don't deserve that! Because it doesn't _work_!'

He jerked like her words were a blow against _him_, not her, and through the haze she could see the flicker in his eyes of the old Albus, the boy who tried to help and comfort anyone and everyone - until he'd burned alive for it. 'Rose…'

'I'm with him, I feel guilty. I kiss him and at best, at _best_, I feel _nothing_. That is what he gives me, and that nothing, that void, that is the _best _thing I havefelt since I lost Scorpius. So maybe he's been lying to me, maybe he's been hiding things from me, and I will _deal _with that, but if you think I should rain down fire on his head for it, then you have no clue, Albus Potter, absolutely _no clue_, because I don't have any fire _left_.'

He stepped forward, extended a hand towards her, but she shied away like he'd tried to hit her. 'I don't -'

'We don't have time for this.' As quickly as it had descended, the veil of fury and pain was lifting, because whenever she felt that agony these days it always burnt out and left her more drained and empty than before. 'Selena needs us, and we're not going to lose someone else, so we have to… how did you once put it? Saddle up.'

Albus' shoulders sagged. 'I was an idiot kid back then.'

'And this was just a conversation between two dead people, but she needs us anyway.' Rose reached for her wand, her breathing slowing, and raced through the preparations for Apparition. 'So let's see if we can bring back the living.'

And before he could answer, she was gone with a crack between them as fresh as the _crack _of the Disapparition.

Packing was easy. She'd kept her magically enlarged bag, the one she'd dragged across the world hunting the Chalice. She'd made sure it still had what she wryly referred to as 'emergency essentials' in it, like a full array of life-saving potions, the tent, a whole slew of reference books. Not to mention food, other supplies. So long as she had this backpack she could sling over one shoulder, Rose suspected she could sustain a five-man operation in the middle of nowhere for the better part of a month.

Normal people didn't make preparations like that. She'd accepted a long time ago that she was not normal. The main problem now was making everyone else accept this.

She considered, just for a moment, not telling her family anything. Then she realised that was callous and cruel, and considered lying to them, saying she and Matt were taking an emergency assignment from Gringotts just to get out of the country. Then she sighed, went to the Floo which Matt's father had finally connected, and messaged her mother.

It took two hours before Hermione Granger, Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the biggest day of crisis in magical Britain since the outbreak of Phlegethon, had a mere ten minutes. Rose was pretending to read a book with a cold cup of tea by the time her mother burst through the fireplace. Even if she'd expected her, it took effort to not lunge for her wand by instinct.

'Are you alright?' Hermione said at once, and Rose was relieved to see no frustration. Sometimes her mother could be so caught up in work that she'd assume any interruption was a waste of time.

'I'm fine. I would have talked to Dad, but I figured you'd probably want to yell about this, and I didn't know how I'd get in touch with him if they're sending him to Old Charleston…'

'They are; he and Harry left a few hours ago.' Hermione frowned as her daughter stood up. 'What am I going to yell about?'

Rose took a deep breath. 'Matt, Al and I are going after Selena.'

Her mother flinched, but looked unsurprised. 'You know that the government is going to -'

'Do everything they can, yes. But you're right now up to your eyeballs in a crisis and it would be unprofessional for you or Lillian Rourke to redirect notable resources to chase one woman, when there are Inferi on a global rampage.' Rose shook her head. 'We're not needed elsewhere. And we're going after her.'

'Do you have any idea where to look?'

'We know places we can start our enquiries.'

Hermione sighed. 'This is Gabriel Doyle's little scheme, isn't it.'

'What -'

'Oh, the man is not as subtle as he likes to think. I remember his post-war spy days, I wasn't surprised he restarted everything when the Council of Thorns came. And then there was the Ager Sanguinis gambit; like he was going to _stop_?' She shook her head. 'Until he crosses a line, I am prepared to remain wilfully ignorant of the details.'

Rose frowned. '_Why_? I don't like it; he could turn these resources to the Ministry, to the IMC.'

'He could. And I could make use of them. Great use. But Gabriel Doyle is not a team player, nor is he a particularly good follower. If I set him to work under IMC guidelines, he'd lose a good deal of what makes him valuable. Besides.' Hermione sighed. 'I understand the value of a group operating _outside _of the government. Even if I _am _the government.'

'The Order of the Phoenix was necessary because the Ministry was weak against Voldemort -'

'And I would imagine the Ministry thought itself perfectly strong and capable, and thought of the Order of the Phoenix a rogue element making their lives harder. We're not that Ministry, though I fear Minister Halvard inadequate for this challenge. So we'll see more of International Magical Convocation, whose power is only going to _grow _to fight the Council of Thorns. And we need that authority if we're going to be effective, but there's one thing we'll lack: accountability.'

Rose raised an eyebrow. 'You've let Gabriel Doyle run around without accountability, _either_. What, so he can be your watchdog?'

'The man is an arrogant braggart who thinks that a Seer's powers make him wiser than anyone else, even if he's reportedly not had a vision in years. But for the most part, he and I have shared goals. Should that change, should he start pulling in a completely different direction, I'm going to need to take a long, hard look at myself.'

'I keep forgetting you learnt how to be in government by watching people screw it up.' Rose bit her lip and looked away. 'Is Lillian Rourke going to screw this up?'

'You need to remember that this is the woman who _started _the Convocation. She saw, before anyone, that the Council of Thorns was a global threat needing a global response. And she's been opposed every step of the way by people who cared more about clinging to their own power than sharing it for the good of everyone. I know she reacted badly when Doyle rescued you all from Ager Sanguinis, but I _know _Lillian. Of _course _she was delighted her daughter was safe, but she was afraid it would be used by her enemies to undermine the entire IMC. And if the loss of Lethe and the Chalice hadn't crippled the Council, allowing the IMC to roll back its power, her enemies might have moved.' Hermione crossed the room to put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. 'She has always been as dedicated to fighting the Council of Thorns as me, your father, as Harry. She might be more of a politician about it, but I trust her.'

'It's just…' She gritted her teeth. 'If it were me, if the Council had snatched me - would _you _wait until the proper authorities could sort it out? Even if you _are _the proper authorities?'

Hermione sighed softly. 'No,' she said. 'But Lillian Rourke doesn't regularly have Sunday lunch with veterans of the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army. Most people don't have a large contacts list of people who could go toe-to-toe with the Council of Thorns. So she has to do everything a bit more _normally._'

'I'm not sure what that word means these days.'

The corners of her mother's eyes creased. 'I never wanted this for you, dear -'

'It's okay.' Rose lifted a hand. 'I'm not - I've got to find Selena, though, you understand? If something happened to her and I was sat in Britain feeling sorry for myself, I genuinely, I _genuinely _don't know what I'd do.'

She didn't get any further before Hermione made a small, muffled sound, and pulled her into a fierce hug. 'You know that I'm so proud of you,' she murmured, voice tight. 'But I want you to be happy. I know you're not, I don't know how you _can _be, but I just - I wish you were happy.'

Rose's heart tightened. 'I don't think "happy" comes when the Council of Thorns have staged their big comeback.'

'Happiness can come under any circumstances. You have to work harder to seize it at times like this. But you must seize it.' Her mother pulled back to hold her at arms' length, and sighed. 'I know that's easier said than done.'

'Mum, I do appreciate it - but I have to go save my friend.

Hermione nodded. 'Is Matthias alright?'

'He's been and packed and gone. We need to talk about some stuff. But Selena comes first.'

'He cares for you a lot, that boy.' Somehow, her mother made that sound like a warning, not a reassurance.

'And he means a lot to me. And Al's back, and I… I _do _feel better for that.' It was easier to make that confession to her mother. She knew she wasn't done being hurt to Albus' face. But the thought of facing Thornweavers was less nerve-wracking with the idea of Albus stood beside her. Even if she wasn't sure who Albus was in a crunch any more. She wasn't sure who _she _was in a crunch any more. 'I'll let you get back to work,' Rose said instead.

Hermione nodded and stepped towards the fireplace. 'Stay safe. And if you need help… to hell with Lillian Rourke. If you need us, Rose, I'll bring Dumbledore's Army, I'll bring the Order of the Phoenix, and I'll bring the whole bloody Department of Magical Law Enforcement to give you backup.'

Rose gave a thin smile, not insincere but strained. 'Thanks. But I think this one's just us and Raskoph.' _Again._

Only an hour after her mother left there was a knock at the door, and she wasn't due to meet Matt for a while yet. So it was with wand in hand that Rose slunk to the door, and she peered through the peephole before opening up.

'Matt's not here,' she told John Colton, damp and tired.

'And good day to you, too, Rosemary; so _pleased_ to see that you're not dead!' John gave her a broad smile, whimsical tone in-place to keep any sting out of his words.

'You know my full name isn't Rosemary.'

'I know, but I have nothing else to call you in a condescending and superior manner when you're being just a _tad _shirty.'

Rose sighed as she opened the door wider. 'Sorry,' she said, and meant it, because at the least they'd been Gryffindors together for eight years. It wasn't that she disliked John. But he was Matt's friend, and she'd never had reason to believe his loyalties lay anywhere else. 'I'm okay. Just a bit tired.'

'Chaos come again _is _tiring. Matt and I were at our third pub when news of Hogsmeade came in, and would you know he didn't even finish his pint before chasing off? So I thought I should check in with you _both_.' He padded in, eyebrows pointedly raised.

Rose watched him as she shut the door. She could see the slightest knotting of his brow, despite his usual whimsical indifference, a sign of serious thought under the surface. 'Matt's okay. He's with his father.' Their eyes met. _You knew_, she thought. _You knew what was going on with Matt and his father and de Sabl__é, at least a little._

'Outstanding.' He glanced at the door. 'Truth be told, I _can _come back another time -'

'I'm tired, I'm not injured or dying or sick. You don't usually have a problem speaking your mind to me, John.'

'I beg to differ; I spent a year with you as the shoutiest prefect in Gryffindor.'

_And then I gave up my prefect__'s badge for Cheryl, because who cares about school discipline? _'You came here for Matt, but I _can _read you. What is it?'

'Even_ I_ think there's a time and a place for everything, and sometimes it's _not _the time.' But he squared his shoulders and faced her head-on. 'Matt's my friend. I don't want to see him get hurt.'

'You say that like I'd do something to hurt him.' She was supposed to be indignant, she thought.

'I don't think you'd do something. Quite the opposite.'

'My relationship with Matt isn't your business -'

'But Matt's wellbeing _is_.' Dark eyes narrowed. 'You have my heartiest respect, Rose. You've been through a lot, but I think people, including me, including Matt, have given you the benefit of the doubt over and over because of this. Perhaps you deserve that. But Matt _doesn__'t _deserve to suffer because of it.'

'He's hardly suffering -'

'If you whistled, he'd come running. If you told him you'd never love him, but wanted him by your side forever, treated only to the scraps of affection you could spare, he'd smile and follow you. And I say, "if". That's what you're doing, it's just unspoken right now. And it's killing him.' He kept his gaze on her, expression calm and level, and as she fumbled for words, he pressed on. 'Maybe you know that. Maybe you don't. Maybe you just don't want to think about it. But he's been yours all along. He deserves better.'

Her chin tilted up. 'Better than me?'

'Better than you're treating him.' He looked away, and finally his voice went utterly serious. 'Again, I respect you, Rose. I respect what you've been through. I believe you don't want to hurt him. But I think you are, anyway. And I think someone needs to point this out to you.'

_Maybe. But if right now isn__'t the time to think about Matt lying to me for two years, it's sure as hell not time for me to think about if I'm mistreating him. _She reached for the door. 'I know I asked, John, but I also got attacked by Inferi last night.'

He inclined his head, and stepped towards the door. 'But of course. I truly _am _glad to see you're alright, Rose.'

'I'm alive,' she confirmed. He left, obviously rather shamed even if, as she'd said, she _had_ pressed him to speak his mind. Then there she was, alone in the flat, waiting on a time to meet Matt so they could get to the business of rescuing Selena.

And so she could get to the business of adamantly _not _thinking about what John had said.

* * *

><p>Albus saw his mother's heart leap into her throat when he entered the living room with his rucksack. 'It's not what you think.'<p>

Ginny got to her feet, gaze tight. 'Isn't it?'

'Mum, I'm not running. I know now there's nowhere to run _to_.'

'But you have to go, anyway?' That was a new voice, and Albus whirled to see James stood in the kitchen door, arms folded across his chest. 'That's sounding like an excuse, little brother.'

They hadn't seen each other since the village. He'd hoped their reunion would be better, that he could be properly grateful. But now he could see the tension in his brother's eyes, the doubt, and knew this was not the time for a reconciliation. 'Selena Rourke's been abducted,' Albus said, trying to keep his voice low and calm, trying to sound like the boy they remembered, while the man he'd become wanted to point out lives were on the line. 'And I have to go find her.'

James arched an eyebrow. 'Don't you think that's a job for the government?'

Ginny lifted a hand. 'James.' He fell silent, and she looked at Albus, though doubt rang in her dark eyes. 'He has a point, though. Why does it have to be _you_?'

'Because she's my friend. Because she needs help. Because I _can _help her.'

'You know,' said James, 'those are all _really _good arguments you could have used on yourself over the last few years.'

Albus squared his shoulders as the calm boy they all remembered faded to dust. 'So this is how it is? I get _understanding _for my choices right until you decide we're done with that?'

'More like, you come back and act contrite right until you have a chance to be a self-indulgent _brat _again!' James stormed towards him.

'Brat?' Al clenched his jaw. 'I've seen things that would curl your toes and leave you weeping in a corner for ten years, _big brother_; don't you _dare _act like -'

'Oh, _spare _me the "I did what I had to do," spiel, complete with grating deep voice!' James tossed his hands in the air. 'I don't know if you're lying to us or lying to yourself, but your place _isn__'t _running off in the world _again_, pretending like you're making a difference. Your place is _here_! War's starting again, and your place is with your _family_!'

'I am _pretending _nothing; I'm doing something more bloody useful with my life than throwing around a Quaffle -'

'_Stop_!' Ginny's voice broke through the air like the crack of a whip, and both boys had been raised with a healthy respect for their mother's anger, springing apart like fighting dogs who'd had a bucket of water hurled over them. When Albus looked at her, she looked less tired and pale in her anger. 'This family has been apart for _too long_,' she continued, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous.

Albus grimaced. 'I'm not _leaving_, Mum - I mean, I am, but I will come _back _-'

'You said that last time,' James growled.

Both fell silent at their mother's renewed glare. 'I am never going to tie either of you to my apron strings. Or I'd pull Lily out of Hogwarts. But she doesn't want to leave, and Hogwarts remains the safest place for her. So I will just have to deal with that. Al, you say you're going to find your friend. Look me in the eye.'

Albus stepped over to his mother and lifted his big hands to her shoulders. 'Mum. I'm not kidding myself. I'm not lying to you. I'm not even going alone; this is Rose and Matt and me.' James scoffed, but he ignored it. 'I'm not going off to do good just so I don't have to be _here_. I need a few days to do _this_, that's all.'

Ginny grasped one of his hands, then extended her other hand to James. 'I'm going to be trite at you boys,' she warned. 'The family being together doesn't mean we all stay at home. It means we trust each other and we back each other up. It means we're here for each other. I know you're both hurt, and you're both afraid, but you have to stop fighting like this. You'll just drive each other apart.'

Albus looked at James, and saw that familiar, resentful glimmer in his eye. 'Jim - you brought me back, Jim. I'm not going to forget that.'

The surly glint about his brother faded for a more apprehensive, guarded edge. 'I don't know if I can bring you back another time.'

Al clasped his shoulder. 'You won't have to. I promise you both, I am not running. I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago; I'm being where my friends need me. I can't make up for what I did, but I… if something happens to Selena, after we lost Methuselah, after we lost Scorpius - we can't. I know Matt and Rose will go with or without me. I have to go for me, I have to go for Selena, and I have to go for _them_.' He saw James scowl, and pressed on. 'Of course that doesn't mean I put them before you. But you don't need me sat at home, agonising and worrying.'

'We need you _safe_,' James said.

'And I will be careful.'

'Yes,' said Ginny. '_Do _be careful when you charge after Thornweavers selected to capture and detain the daughter of the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation.'

But her lips twitched, James snorted, and then Albus was laughing, too - a small, nervous laugh, tinged with apprehension, and Ginny pulled him into a hug which he returned fervently. James was dragged into it too, and the three clung to each other for a long time, as if Ginny could squeeze her message into them - or set into him an anchor which would make sure, this time, he came back soon.

He had no intention of letting them down again.


	8. The Lawless Perch

**The Lawless Perch**

It wasn't snowing in Moscow, and Rose felt a little cheated. With the time difference and the intricacies of taking an illegal Portkey, it was late and dark by the time they stepped into the streets, and the cold bit through her coat and jumper. She hadn't realised she'd shivered, but then Matt put an arm around her shoulder. She ignored Al's look.

'What've we got, hotel rooms?' asked Albus.

'No way. We don't want anyone to know we're in the city, and we have no control over who's got access to a hotel, magical or Muggle. Dad sorted us a safe house near here.' Matt looked up and down the street, then picked a direction.

'We couldn't have taken the Portkey there directly? Instead of into a back alley?'

'If someone traces this Portkey, all they know is that we're in Moscow. If the Portkey went right to where we're staying, they'd be able to find us.'

Rose tuned out the bickering and turned her gaze to this run-down district of Moscow. She'd anticipated more of a culture shock, but if it weren't for the Cyrillic script on signs and shops, she would have struggled to tell she wasn't in some decrepit industrial region of London. That, and the cold. It was a good ten to fifteen degrees colder than it had been in England, and while it wasn't beyond what she'd expect deeper in winter, it was a sudden change.

They weren't in a magical district and there weren't many people on the street, so they made the fifteen-minute walk without incident. Matt had to stop a few times, pull a map from his pocket, consult the signs with a furrowed brow as he tried to match up symbols he didn't understand, before they reached what looked like an abandoned block of workers' flats across from an empty refinery. He pulled his wand, tapped it twice against a dead nearby lamppost, and murmured something Rose couldn't hear.

'There we go.'

Albus squinted as the building made the transition from empty and run-down to illuminated and run-down. 'Your father doesn't take style as seriously as security, I see.'

Matt glared. 'It'll be fine. It's warded and nobody will spot any lights or signs of life inside, wizard or otherwise. What were you expecting, a five-star hotel?'

Rose pushed past them to get the door and was relieved when Albus followed instead of taking the bait. The safehouse Gabriel Doyle had arranged for them proved to be more comfortable on the inside; plain and simple, but it was warm, clean, furnished, and well-stocked with food. Only the top floor of the building was usable, with two bunkrooms, a kitchenette, and a seating area boasting an impressive table from which one could presumably plot an international strike.

'We're meeting Baz at ten at his place,' said Matt. 'Local time, of course. It's only a four hour difference but I suggest we don't get a late night.'

Albus gave him a sidelong look. 'If we're being all motherly, then I'll cook us a nice dinner, shall I?'

He did. It was garnished with resentment, but for a few moments, with the three of them sat around the huge table, Albus rattling back and forth with plates of what glorious things he could do with a few tins of essentials, everything felt like normal. Or, like the last meal Rose could remember counting as "normal", which was a sunlit evening on a terrace in Venice eating dinner with her friends.

But once the silence of eating passed for the silence of tension, Albus' eyes flickering between the two of them with an accusatory air she wasn't used to, normalcy faded for anxiety. Rose pushed back her chair. 'I'll clean up, then I'm turning in. I've only had cat-naps after last night.'

'No, I'll do it.' Al pushed to his feet. 'You need your rest.'

She gave him a look, then nodded and stalked to one of the bunkrooms before she could give the matter much thought. _How can you tear strips off me for how I live my life, then go right back to being the guy I remember?_

Despite being bone weary, fifteen minutes later she was no closer to sleep than lying on a bunk and staring at the ceiling, and so the knock was no interruption. With a sigh, she got up and opened the door to see a sheepish-looking Matt.

'This is awkward,' he said. The living room around him was gloomy. 'I didn't know if you'd rather I just bunked with Al.'

'Oh.' Rose rubbed an eye. 'I didn't mean to do that. I'm pretty tired.' But she stepped back from the door, and he followed with a nervous, grateful smile.

'I know, and I get that we need to talk, and I get that now might not be the best time, so if you want to stick a pin in it until all of this is over, or at least until you've had some sleep -'

She lifted a hand to cut him off. 'I don't want to be angry with you, Matt.'

'Oh. Good?' He stood in the middle of the bunkroom, wringing his hands together. 'I don't have many better explanations than what I said before. I fell into this after the Chalice hunt. You clearly wanted nothing more to do with the Council, I didn't want to land this at your door, and by the time I thought you could cope with it, I'd been doing this for ages. There was no good time to turn around and say, "by the way, I'm working for the Order of the Knights Templar."'

'Your father seemed cynical on that point.'

Matt shrugged. 'Dad's funded Reynald de Sablé. But de Sablé - you should meet him, properly meet him, Rose. If Raskoph is an ancient relic come back to spread his words of hate, then de Sablé's like his opposite number. Even _aside _from the Council of Thorns, there's work to do with these lost bits of knowledge and magic scattered around the world, and someone has to be responsible for them.'

'And Gringotts aren't the people for the job?' she said wryly.

He snorted. 'My point is that I didn't get into this just to fight. We know the Council would use all manner of ancient weapons. They were prepared to snatch options other than the Chalice - God knows what they found to reform Lethe, after all. I didn't want to go toe-to-toe with them and look for trouble. I wanted to help keep the wrong things out of their hands.'

Rose looked to the window. They were not so high up that she could see anything but the dull concrete of the opposite building, and for a heartbeat she missed the view they'd had in their rooms in Cairo. Even that felt like a lifetime ago, a time of dull, plain nothing in contrast to the present tension, fear, hate. 'I understand that you weren't done, after the Chalice. But I _was_. And if it weren't for Selena, I'd still be done.'

'Would you prefer I'd told you?'

'I don't know.' Her throat tightened as she looked at him. 'I know that I'll worry about something happening to you. But if you think I don't worry about that when you walk down the street -'

Matt flew to her side, grabbing her hand in both of his. 'I'll be fine, I promise -'

She flinched so hard she jerked her hand free, and he stepped back, startled. 'Don't promise. You can't _promise _anything. God, Matt, we're chasing down the Council of Thorns, possibly Raskoph himself, and we've never done _that _before, we've never gunned for them directly. Even Selena's hunt for Thane turned into a hunt for the Chalice. We can't _promise_ that any of us are going to be alright.'

He stood frozen for a moment, grasping at the air where she'd been. 'Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Even if I'm not sure what else I was supposed to do. But you know, now, and so I suppose the question is, what does this mean for _us_? Do you want me to… stop this work?'

She looked at him, and something crumpled inside her. _You would, wouldn__'t you. Even if you clearly love this, even if you clearly _need _to do this, you__'d stop if I asked you to. _So she shook her head. 'We have to focus on Selena. I can't think about the future right now.' But his expression flickered, and she dug deep in herself to find the steel to ask the question. 'What _happened _between you two?'

Matt blinked. 'What do you mean? Nothing happened -'

'Like hell.' She shifted to face him head-on. 'I'm not accusing you of anything, Matt. I'm saying that you two went from being friends and confidantes to… I don't even know what. I never got around to asking. By the time I could think about taking on someone else's problems, there was a wall between you two.'

His shoulders tensed. 'We were… I don't know what we were. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a… a _thing_ when it was all coming to an end, when we'd found the Chalice, when we were in Venice. But then - then everything went wrong, and you needed us, needed us both, and we didn't really have the time. And then she started to pull away from me. Hung out with her old friends, avoided me, and so… I don't know. I suppose we might have fought, but you needed us both. And I wasn't going to spend time chasing her if she didn't want to be around me, and…'

Rose lifted a hand to her temples. 'And I needed your attention more.'

'That sounds more blaming than I meant it.' He approached her again, gait ginger. 'I figured I could focus on someone who actually wanted me around. And not someone who'd suddenly decided I wasn't worth the time of day.'

She raised her gaze, searched his face. 'Except you're like a cat on a hot tin roof now she's in danger.'

Matt paused. 'Is this - Rose, I don't -'

'I'm not accusing you,' she repeated, and it was the truth. There was no jealousy, no fear, just a low curiosity mixed with a dull realisation of things she'd let slip by her, willingly or otherwise, over the last two years. It was like she'd finally stepped away from the jigsaw puzzle of her life, and not only was she seeing the bigger picture, she was finding pieces she'd had all along and was slotting them into place.

But the image was still only black and white.

Matt drew a deep breath. 'I love you,' he said. 'But I can't stand by and do nothing for Selena, not when I have the resources to hand. Even if she's… no matter what's happened… I have to do what I can. Everything I can.'

'I know. And I'm right there with you. We're not losing anyone else.' She paused, then extended an awkward hand towards him. 'I'm not saying I'm angry with you about this Templar business, _or _that I'm over it. But I can't think about this right now. I know it's harsh for me to ask if we can put it on hold until it's all over -'

'It's not harsh,' he said, hurrying to her and taking her hand again. 'I understand. This is more important.'

She dug deep in herself and found a smile. After all, she knew he would take whatever reaction she hurled at him, and so she figured he deserved that smile, and that idea of understanding, rather than the blank numbness whose residence in her gut had yet to shift. Even with him.

* * *

><p>'Moscow's a pretty modern city, even the wizarding parts,' Matt was saying as they walked the network of alleyways leading to the magical district of the city. 'There was a lot of rebuilding in the fifties, a lot of old places - especially religious sites - knocked down, and replaced with huge skyscrapers and those soulless housing blocks like where we've stayed.'<p>

'Except for those really colourful buildings?'

'Pre-Soviet,' Matt told Rose. 'And a lot of them were heavily restored. But the Muggles of Moscow have been worse for conserving historical buildings than a load of other places. European places, at least.'

Albus wasn't paying much attention. He'd bowed to the cold by putting another thick coat on over his leather jacket, which he wasn't about to abandon, and trailed behind Rose and Matt. Matt was up to his eyeballs in historic ramblings, and Rose was paying at least cursory attention, so Al felt _somebody _had to worry about their security. There was no sign anyone was after them, or even cared about their travel, but he'd spent two years being on his own and pissing off all manner of different people. Watching his back had become second nature, so it wasn't difficult to turn this into watching _all _their backs.

'We want the Morena Gate,' Matt added.

'That name's ringing a bell,' said Rose.

'Morena was an old Slavic deity, with different associations in different places. Also called Mora, or Marzanna -'

The laugh choked in Albus' throat before he could stop it, surprised and bitter. The other two looked back at him, and his expression twisted. 'Marzanna's what they call her in Poland, yes. They drown an effigy of her as a symbol of _evil _at the end of winter, to ward off death, disease, pestilence.'

Matt's eyebrows raised. 'You saw the festival?'

'No. I did kill a dark wizard trying to invoke her power at the winter solstice, though.' He ignored their curious gazes and went back to checking nearby windows. His wand occasionally swished, hidden up his sleeve, to detect unusual magical signatures.

'A Thornweaver?' said Rose.

'Just a dark wizard. They happened before the Council came along and they'll keep happening.' Albus shrugged. 'We're close, I can feel the magic.'

Matt gave him an uneasy look, then returned his gaze to the route ahead. 'Yeah. There have been bricks on the way to tap in sequence, then we turn what I think is this next corner, and…'

And instead of another narrow alleyway in eastern Moscow, there was a huge, broad street that couldn't possibly fit. If Diagon Alley was a throwback to old London, this was the opposite: modern, with simple brick masonry, narrow windows with well-decorated arches around them, all sharp corners and straight lines. It was in much better condition, better maintained and the paint no longer peeling, than the alleyways they'd come through, and from the long, sweeping robes of the public, it was obvious they were now in the magical district.

'We're going to be recognised,' Albus grumbled, and went through the familiar motions. He pulled up his hood, shoved his hands in his pockets with a good grasp on his wand, and slumped his shoulders, all the better to fade into a crowd.

'We're not that famous, Al,' Rose said.

'We _are _that hated by the Council of Thorns. Trust me. We'll draw attention for being foreign, then people will ask questions, then -'

'I think they've got bigger fish to fry,' Matt said, and nodded down the road. The crowds at this end were sparse, people moving quickly from place to place with an air of determination and fear, but about a hundred metres down the street, Al could see them clumping together, tall barricades set up. Witches and wizards in long robes bearing the insignia of the Russian Magical Federation went to and fro, blocked the way of people coming closer, and moved in and out of nearby buildings whose windows and doors had been heavily reinforced.

'Moscow was hit yesterday, too,' Rose said. 'Looks like they haven't cleared the region out.'

'They might still need a quarantine,' said Matt. 'Baz thought meeting _here _was a discreet option?'

'If everyone's attention is drawn, then this works for us,' Albus pointed out. 'Where's this bar?'

'It's at this end. I wouldn't think it's open, we may need a back entrance,' said Matt, and led the way deeper into the magical district. Albus scowled at his back, noting from here how plain it was that Matt had his wand up his sleeve, how his long coat bulked out around the hilt of his sword. An average person on the street wouldn't notice, but he wasn't worried about average people on the street. He was worried about professionals.

'I think this is the place,' Matt said as they approached one of the buildings on the street - the door closed, the shutters closed, only a sign out front in a language none of them could read. 'The Lone Bogatyr, is how it was translated to me…'

Albus drew a sharp breath. 'If you spent half as much time preparing for this journey as you spent indulging in your obsession with history, we might have answers by now. Are you going to knock, professor, and introduce us to your vaunted contacts, products of your _father__'s _hard work, or are you going to keep blathering on?'

Rose bristled. 'Al -'

'I'll knock,' said Matt, his expression going tense, but blank. He rapped sharply on the door.

It took long seconds until a hatch in the door slid open, a lone eye peering out at them, and something was rattled off in rather fast Russian. Matt grimaced. 'Er, I don't speak - we're here to see Baz.'

Albus sighed heavily at the fast greeting, but he'd caught half the words, and when he spoke, it was in his own, rather broken Russian. 'We have a meeting. Tell him to look out of the window. He will see us. He will want to talk.'

There was a pause, then the hatch snapped shut. Albus glanced at the other two, and shrugged. 'I've been around the last few years. A lot of time was spent in Eastern Europe. Yes, I speak a little Russian.'

'You could have mentioned that before we got here,' Matt grumbled.

'I assumed you'd done your homework.'

'My _homework _doesn't extend to reading Cyrillic - look, I speak French and a little German and Arabic, don't you be _smug _-'

'Will you two both shut up?' Rose hissed. 'Don't complain about not keeping a low profile and then start bickering in the street.'

Albus grunted and fell into silence, but he failed to hide a smirk at the sound of bolts scraping back, and a thin-faced man opened the door to usher them inside. 'Baz is upstairs,' he said, now in the English Albus had known, from his reactions, he'd understood all along. 'My apologies. We are closed because of the attack.'

'I understand,' said Matt, now magnanimous, and led the way into the bar. With the many wooden chairs and table bereft of patrons, the fireplace on the far side dead, the shutters down over the bar itself, it was a gloomy, unpleasant sort of place, and he wasted no time in heading for the stairs. Their threshold guardian slammed the door shut behind them, and the hairs on the back of Al's neck went up as the bolts slid back into place. This wasn't just a metal locking, but a magical one. If this went sour they were trapped, and there was only one reason Albus had any faith in Baz as their contact - not that he'd met him before, relied on him before, though that helped. But Scorpius had trusted him, at a time when they barely trusted anyone.

The door to the office upstairs was open, and Albus heard the Russian's voice before he saw him, when Matt was at the top of the stairs. 'Ah, Mister Doyle, I assume. Come in, come in.' Albus let himself relax, ushered Rose up before him, and almost walked into the backs of both of them when they froze in the doorway.

The office was large and well-lit, with a narrow window offering a good view of the Morana Gate, and the hubbub around the barricade. The walls sported peeling paint, old metal filing cabinets, a wide, battered desk at which the short, sallow-faced shape of Baz sat, wearing a smile frozen with confusion at their reactions.

And then he spotted the woman in the far corner. She was tall, her black hair shorter than he remembered, her features more sharp, severe, and still marred by that scar which scraped across the skin on the left side of her jaw. But she could have worn the best disguise and still he would have recognised her, with those eyes and that stance burned into him for all eternity.

His throat went dry. 'You.'

Eva Saida straightened, and drew an awkward breath. 'This wasn't -'

Then Albus wasn't stood in the doorway anymore. His legs propelled him across the room, and Baz gave a squawk of surprise while Rose and Matt just stared, dumbstruck. Even Saida didn't get time to react before Albus' hand shot out, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the wall.

'I said I'd kill you if I saw you again,' he snarled.

'I -' She tried to speak, but her words failed to choke past his hold, and for a moment all she did was claw at his forearm, powerless against his strength.

'Albus! We don't - let her go!' That was Matt, baffled and desperate, and he might as well have not spoken for all his words did to pierce the red veil that had wrapped its smothering grasp around him.

'This isn't - what the hell is going on?' Baz demanded from the safety of the other side of his desk.

He saw something flicker in Saida's eyes, saw the shock and fear shift to something else, and for half a heartbeat he was glad, because something deep and old inside of him, beyond the reach of the spectre of fury, howled in protest at making her afraid. But he didn't have long to reflect on that, because then there was the gust of magic thudding into his gut and sending him flying across the room to crash into a filing cabinet.

Stars exploded in front of his eyes, but he'd taken a worse beating and was on his feet in moments, wand extended. She had hers up, too, but her stance was defensive, taut. 'Al, you have to _listen _-'

'Don't you call me that.' His voice tore his throat open with its thunderous shake. 'Don't you _dare _-'

Matt stepped between them, both hands raised. 'We're here to talk! Not here to _fight_!'

Albus glowered at him, then his gaze snapped to Rose, still frozen in the doorway. 'She got Scorpius killed; are you just going to _stand there _-'

'Will someone _please _tell me what's going on?' Baz stamped his foot and was promptly ignored.

'I'm here to talk, too,' said Saida. 'But I'll lower my wand when _he _does.'

Albus shifted into a fighting stance, and wondered how best to hurl Matt out of the way without harming him too badly. 'Like hell will I -'

He'd been so busy contemplating how to remove Matt that he didn't expect him to strike. Not at Saida, but him, his wand moving with impressive speed to throw out a Stun which Al, by instinct, shielded against. But Matt was still acting, his sword in hand for a swipe which cleaved its way through that magical barrier, and with his back to a filing cabinet, Albus couldn't move away for more space. The blow was well-aimed, because after collapsing his shield, the blade only sliced through thin air, and Albus was still reeling when Matt's Disarm knocked his wand out of his hand.

Now the instinct to kill Saida wasn't as strong as the instinct to defendhimself, unarmed against a man with a wand and a blade. Reflex made Albus step forward, inside Matt's swing - and punch him in the face.

There was a crunch at the impact, a spurt of blood, and Matt gave a bellow of pain as he fell back, dropping his weapons to clutch his nose. But it broke the moment, at least, and Al stood there for a moment, blinking owlishly as Rose dived to Matt's side, as Baz kept shouting, and as Eva Saida kept her wand trained on him and didn't move.

'You dupid badtard!' Matt slurred through streaming blood and a broken nose. 'Ng, Bose, could you…'

Rose was already casting, and there was another _crack _and a howl of pain from Matt, but he could lower his hand. Blood covered the lower part of his face, dripped onto his coat, but the nose was intact now, and he gave Albus a baleful look. 'We're here for _Selena_, not your problems! Is it _possible _for you to ask questions before you open fire, so maybe we can get some answers and stop _somebody else _from dying?'

Baz had given up, pulled up a chair, and lit a cigarette. Rose pulled away from Matt, and moved to Albus' side, lifting a hand to him like he was a horse who might bolt - or go berserk, and he didn't hesitate to turn his glower on her, too, even if the red veil was lifting. 'Al. Let's find out what's going on.'

His lip curled. 'How can you -'

'I _swear_, Al, if you try to play the "my pain is worse than yours" card and don't listen to me, I will break _your _nose.' Finally, something cracked the steel screen that had been across her face since he'd come back, and it was that, not her threat, which made him subside.

He grumbled and retrieved his wand, but slid it up his sleeve, ready to hand. Then he leaned against the filing cabinet he'd been flung into, back aching. 'Alright.' He gave Matt a jerky nod. 'You can start your blathering.'

'Did you go on a two-year mission to find your inner _arsehole_?' Matt sneered. He'd pulled out a handkerchief to mop himself up, but his coat and scarf kept their speckles of red.

Baz blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. 'This is the best meeting I've had all week. You come in, kick off on one of my people, and then start fighting _each other_. Do I get an explanation now?' His glance included Saida, who, at his nod, did lower her wand.

Matt retrieved his wand and sword to sheathe them both, before he nodded at Saida. 'Do you know who she is?'

'Eva Saida. Worked for the Council of Thorns, most specifically, Prometheus Thane. Then she stopped, and now she works for me. Happens all the time.' Baz took a drag on his cigarette. 'I take it you know each other.'

'I infiltrated their team when they were hunting for the Chalice,' said Saida, voice neutral. 'That was my last mission for the Council of Thorns.'

'Now that's a thing. You didn't tell me that.'

'You've asked me about the work I did for the Council when it was relevant. It's never been relevant until now. If you'd told me who this meeting was with, I would have warned youabout this,' said Saida. Her voice was as he remembered, that wry, matter-of-fact tone. Only Albus had attributed it to a wounded young woman called Lisa Delacroix, not a sardonic, cold-blooded killer.

'I suppose we all keep our secrets.' Baz stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. 'Saida is one of my most trusted people,' he said to Matt. 'She has, for the last two years, helped me in my operations to keep the criminal underworld out of the hands of the Council of Thorns.'

'So, from the Council into _good work_, I see,' Albus sneered.

Baz's eyebrows raised. 'You're here for my help; don't get _judgemental _about it, Mister Potter. I've been working with the Russian Federation _and _the IMC since the Council of Thorns became a threat. Perhaps I'll go back to fighting law and order when all of this is over, but in the meantime, there's a world to save, and we're all on the same side.'

'We are _not _-'

'The Council of Thorns staged an Inferi attack within eye-shot of my place of work. They would have killed me as surely as they killed the _hundred _or so others. Dozens more have been infected with this new plague, this Lethe, and _Russia _doesn't have its Resurrection Stones, its Nathalie Lockett. The cures which _are _out there cannot be everywhere at once.' Baz stubbed out his cigarette, eyes tightening. 'Joachim Raskoph is a madman who won't stop until the bodies are knee-deep worldwide. That's why I fight him, that's why Saida here doesn't work for him any more. Now, I haven't thrown you out because Gabriel Doyle and I have done good work together the last couple years - he liked that I helped you in Athens - and because you were Scorpius Malfoy's friend, but if you keep glaring at me with those judgemental eyes, I won't give you a thing, boy.'

Matt gave Albus a warning look which only inspired greater anger, but Rose was at his side again, and squeezed his elbow. 'Al, please,' she murmured. 'For Selena.' That, at least, worked, and he subsided into an unhappy silence, settling for glaring at the floor if he couldn't look at Baz in a civil manner. Saida he didn't look to at all.

Baz nodded, and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the desk. 'Smoke, anyone?'

Matt nodded, and pulled up the chair across from him, accepting the cigarette and the light. 'What happened the other night?'

'The same thing that happened everywhere else. We don't know where they got the bodies from, or how they got the Inferi into the city centre so suddenly. But then they were here, on a rampage and a slaughter, along with the Thornweavers. Would you believe the Federation shut down the wards to stop anyone getting _out_ of Morana Gate? Even us.' Baz puffed on the fresh cigarette. 'Fucking bloodbath.'

'What can they _want_?' Rose frowned. 'All they're doing is killing a _lot _of people and making everyone hate them.'

'I doubt we'll see more like this,' said Baz. 'This is to remind us they're here. This is to scare the hell out of us. Then they'll start targeting heads of state, topple weakened governments like they did in Brazil. I bet every government's got Thornweavers in place, waiting in the wings, ready to seize power when people stop being angry at the Council, and start being angry at the people who didn't _save _us from the Council.'

'You don't think this is about Raskoph?'

'I think the Council of Thorns is a pack of _lunatics _who all want different things. Raskoph might be the biggest and the baddest and the one they're all listening to right now, but he's trying to please a dead Grindelwald and that means turning the world's rivers to blood. The question isn't what he wants, the question is what's going to happen when he's beaten, and how much damage he'll do before we get there. But you know all of this.' Baz puffed on his fresh cigarette. 'You came here for a reason.'

'Raskoph _is _the reason. If this isn't him, then it's some of his most important people who've pulled off a job for him.'

'Your father said this. That's why I asked Eva to be here. Which I see was a decision with no drawbacks.'

Matt took a drag on his cigarette, visibly steeling himself. 'The Council of Thorns has abducted Selena Rourke.'

Albus heard the hissing intake of Baz's breath, but he couldn't stop himself from glancing to Saida to gauge her reaction - and there was one, a slight widening of the eyes. He looked away sharply. _Of course that got a reaction. Selena__'s Lillian Rourke's daughter. It's a big deal._

'They've made no public pronouncements,' said Matt. 'But this is going to have been some of his best people. We need to find them, and we need to find her.'

'There's more,' said Rose, her voice hoarse. 'Prometheus Thane and his people were at the attack on Hogsmeade, which is where she was grabbed.'

Saida's eyes narrowed at that. 'Really.'

Albus bit back a comment, but Matt nodded. 'It's possible,' Matt said, 'they were trying to foil the abduction. The Thornweavers almost killed Rose, but Thane's men got there in time to stop them, just _seconds _after they'd got away with Selena.'

'Prometheus Thane is the wildcard,' said Baz, speaking around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. 'He goes from Raskoph's favourite pet, then eight months ago he starts _killing _the biggest names of the Council of Thorns?'

'He's killed members of the IMC, too!' Rose said.

Saida shook her head. 'Every person Thane assassinated in the IMC was in the Council's pocket.'

'Don't get us wrong; he's marching to the beat of his own drum, and I don't know why he suddenly went rogue. Maybe he saw, like so many others, that Raskoph is _deranged_.'

'He had all the evidence to see that two years ago,' said Saida, derision creeping into her voice. 'He didn't turn his back on Raskoph then.'

'While this is all interesting,' said Matt, 'it doesn't get us any closer to where Selena might be.'

Baz looked at Saida. 'Eva? Got any theories?'

She shrugged. 'I still have contacts in the Council, people who like a little money, or aren't all that fond of what the Thornweavers are up to these days. But this is the first I've heard of the abduction of Selena Rourke. Raskoph will have used his best men for the task, absolutely trustworthy people. Nobody who'd talk would know a thing about this.'

'So that's it?' Matt squared his shoulders, that same fury and frustration creeping into him as when he'd kicked off on Albus. 'You have _no _leads? They can't have just disappeared into thin air!'

Baz gave Saida a look Albus would have sworn was pleading, and her lips thinned. 'I have an idea where to look,' she said, 'but it's risky.'

'I'll take anything,' said Matt.

Something else flashed across Saida's face, an emotion Albus didn't dare read into, and she turned to him, walking over. He squared his shoulders and grasped his wand tighter, until Saida said, looking at a point just past his left ear, 'I need that cabinet.'

'Oh.' He slid to one side, closer to Rose, but still trapped between them as Saida opened a drawer and rifled inside. He was close this time without being in a murderous rage, and could see she was as taut as him. He knew the signs from the short months of their acquaintance, their relationship - except all of those had been lies, hadn't they? He hadn't really read a damned thing, and she just knew how to play him…

She pulled out a map and returned to the desk with a haste he knew was because of him. 'There is a lead we - and the IMC - have known about for some time, but they didn't want anyone to interfere. We know where they manage, enchant, and supervise all of their illegal international portkeys.'

Rose frowned. 'And the IMC _don__'t _want anyone to interfere?'

'This is something the Council will do anyway. Knowing of this location means we can monitor them, the odd portkey. If the base was hit, then the Council would set it up somewhere else, somewhere nobody knows about.'

Baz flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. 'Saida…'

'If ever there was a time to get their full portkey records, it's now, after yesterday,' she said flatly. 'And whoever came from Hogsmeade with Selena Rourke will have needed a portkey off the _Naglfar_.'

'_Naglfar_,' Matt repeated with a sigh. 'Of course that's what it's called.'

'So it's a ship,' said Rose. 'A mobile Council command centre to control their magical comings and goings.'

'Most portkeys go _to _the _Naglfar_, we think, and then the teams travel on from there,' said Saida. 'If it wasn't working overtime during the unleashing of Lethe, I will be surprised. There's only one problem.'

'Just one? In hitting one of the Council of Thorns' most valuable bases?' She arched an eyebrow.

Saida grimaced. 'One first problem, then. We're not sure where it _is_.'

* * *

><p><em>AN: _Naglfar _is a ship from Norse mythology, made entirely from the bones and fingernails of the dead. In Ragnarok it will ferry the forces who will do battle with the Gods. This is how Rose and Matt pick up right away that the Portkey base is, in fact, a boat._

_I have been getting some upset from readers, all very worried about the fate of the characters without Scorpius in the world. I will only say three things: If I had something planned, would I honestly admit it? On the other hand, would I do an __'easy' resurrection? And, finally, I remind you: 'Trust the fuckhead.'_

_On an unrelated note, I love how you guys all react differently to the characters. If everyone loved everyone, if nobody was hated or found irritating, I wouldn__'t be doing my job right. Rose is a hypocrite, Matt's a liar, Albus is naive, Eva's a bloody traitor. Even Scorpius was petty and cruel and childish, and some of you rightly condemned him for it._

_Except everyone seems to _love _Selena. I mean, I love Selena. But I love all of them. But Selena has lied and manipulated, she is hypocritical and tells people to sort out their own lives without sorting out her own, she can be superficial and cruel. And yet she appears to be the one character _all _of my readers get behind. How? Is there someone out there who dislikes her? It__'s weird if there isn't! Everyone has their detractors and I refuse to consider I have made the 'perfect character'._

_Otherwise, the plot marches on._


	9. In Nightblack Arms

**In Nightblack Arms**

'Dad can get us a portkey to Denmark, if it is in Denmark,' said Matt, bent over the map laid out on the table in their safehouse. 'But from there we're on our own.'

'We can call reinforcements, _surely_.' Rose furrowed her brow. 'We have a lead -'

'We've got nothing,' said Albus. 'We _think _the _Naglfar _is in Denmark. Even if Baz's people can get us a more definite location, that's nothing conclusive. There must be dozens of reports of Thornweaver activity worldwide over the last two days. The IMC can't chase them all.'

'Your father had a team to us in Ager Sanguinis within twenty minutes.' Rose looked at Matt. 'You've got a whole operation which acts independently of the IMC.'

'An operation which is, right now, as thinly-spread as the IMC. Your fathers are running around North Carolina because the Americans need their help. De Sablé's up to his eyeballs trying to find out _what the hell _the Council got their hands on to create Lethe. We're not a large group, and most people are helping him.'

'We can put the call out,' said Al, 'but who're we going to bring? People who haven't waved their wand in earnest in years? People whose only experience of a fight is a classroom? And even _if _we get a definite lead, you heard them. The IMC might not even want the _Naglfar _hit.'

Rose frowned at him. 'You're saying we shouldn't tell anyone we're doing this, because they might stop us?'

'I'm sure Lillian Rourke wouldn't. But Lillian Rourke is subject to her advisers, an international team of experts, whose operations might be disrupted by hitting the _Naglfar _before they're ready. I don't _care_, but I think it's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.'

Matt nodded, jaw setting. 'It's just us,' he said. 'Like always.'

She looked between them, trying to not glower. _Of course _this _is the topic where you decide to team up. The part which requires us to be macho loners lunging into an abyss. _'It's never just been _three _of us. And unlike you two, I haven't been running around looking for trouble these past two years -'

'You did fine against Castagnary and his goons. Don't pretend you've not kept up your skills. We're not little kids any more. We've probably got more experience than most professionals.'

'Maybe we do.' Rose looked between them. 'But I don't want to get _killed_; I want to rescue Selena -'

Matt scowled. 'We want that too -'

'Not as much as _either _of you wants to _prove _something!'

Her voice echoed in the small room, with its bare walls which made her anger reverberate around them, and it was enough to make both Matt and Albus straighten. But before either could summon a response, there was a knock on the door, and Matt turned. 'That'll be Baz with a location. Hopefully.'

But he opened the door with his wand in hand, and it came snapping up when he saw Eva Saida stood there.

She lifted her hands, one of which held a manilla folder. 'I come in peace. With information.'

Matt grimaced. 'Did Baz _have _to send you? I'd rather not break up another fight.'

Albus didn't move from the table, broad shoulders still squared. 'I'll behave if she does,' he rumbled.

Saida stepped inside as Matt let her, and moved to the opposite side of the table to Albus, next to Rose. 'I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that I was wrong about Denmark; the _Naglfar_ left Copenhagen almost twenty-four hours ago.'

'Tell me the good news is a lead,' said Matt.

She nodded. 'Rotterdam. I had to check discrepancies in their berth logging system and reports from Muggle dock-workers with minor confusion and inconsistencies which match the effects of the charms the _Naglfar _uses to disguise itself. All very discreet, if you don't know what to look for.'

'Does the IMC know what to look for?' asked Albus, gaze tight.

'You were _just _suggesting we rush off without telling the IMC,' Rose pointed out. 'Let's do what we have to and worry about the wider world later.'

'Agreed,' said Matt. 'If they're in Rotterdam, we can get transport there easy. We locate the specific berth, check the place out; repeat what we did with the Rabbit's Foot if we have to, snatch a guard and Rose interrogates them. From there, we cook up a strike plan -'

'There might not be any guards disembarking,' Albus said. 'Rose's Legilimency is rusty, and it took us a _week _to form the Rabbit's Foot plan, with recon. If the _Naglfar _left Copenhagen for Rotterdam, it might stay on the move.'

Matt grimaced. 'What're you suggesting; we jump to Rotterdam and hop on board, wands blazing?'

'No, I'm pointing out that you're leaping to conclusions.'

'I am _trying_,' snapped Matt, 'to find Selena. You, on the other hand, are being an obstacle at every turn.'

Rose lifted her hands, chest thudding. 'If you two are going to keep at each other's throats, then I'm out. I want to save Selena, but if we're fighting amongst ourselves like this, we don't stand a _chance _against a Council command centre.'

Albus' expression set. 'We cannot be naive about this. We must prepare for every eventuality, and be ready to deal with the Council's best people.'

'And you think the three of you can take them on?'

All eyes snapped around to glare daggers at Eva Saida, who remained impassive. She shrugged. 'I mean you no offence. I'm aware of your competence. But you've never made a strike against a Council stronghold before.'

'And you have?' Matt arched an eyebrow.

'Yes,' she said simply. 'And I spent a long time _with _the Council, with their people. I know how they work. I know the wards and defences that they use.'

'Then tell us,' said Rose.

She shook her head. 'It's more complicated than that. You know magical defences are. They could use a dozen different configurations; I couldn't tell you what they're doing until it was in front of me.'

Matt's jaw dropped. 'Are you asking to _come with us_?'

'Absolutely not!' Albus slammed his palms on the table. 'I'll tolerate your presence and your help if it's going through Baz, because people _I trust_ have trusted Baz. But to have you at our backs? No way. No _bloody _way.'

'Do you want Selena back?' Saida challenged, and Rose noted how she still couldn't look Albus in the eye. 'Because you can't do this, just the three of you.'

'I accept that likelihood,' said Rose, and her stomach began to clench into an old, familiar knot. 'But you betrayed us to the Council. I don't care that you got cold feet and then let us go; you betrayed us in Venice, and that got Scorpius killed.'

The look Saida threw Albus for a heartbeat was oddly accusing, then she turned to Rose. 'I didn't betray you in Venice.'

'So you say,' Albus growled.

'It's the truth!' She gritted her teeth. 'I got into the job to spy on you, yes, and report back on what happened in your search for the Chalice. But I was given that job by Prometheus Thane; _Raskoph _was responsible for the strike on Kythos. I realised then that if I gave reports to the Council, there was a good chance that Raskoph would kill me to wipe out the lot of you. The last time I had contact with Thane was after Tomar, and that was telling him I was going off the grid until I had the Chalice itself.'

'So you stayed quiet until Venice.' Rose folded her arms across her chest.

'Think about everything that happened. I killed Elijah Downing, yes. And that _was _partly because, if we caught him, you'd have used Legilimency on him and I'd have been outed. But you know what Downing wanted? He wanted to kill you on Brillig and take your research and continue the hunt himself. It was a good argument. An argument someone loyal to the Council's cause couldn't object to. So I had no choice.'

Rose grimaced, but before she could find a retort, Saida had continued. 'Then there was Cat Island. I risked my life to buy you time to get the Chalice. I didn't have to do that.' Her voice was low but firm; impassioned without fire, a cold sort of determination. 'I intended to _leave _in Venice,' she continued, and didn't look at Albus at all now. 'You had the Chalice. You'd be home soon. I was going to slip away in the night and be long gone before either you or the Council realised I was missing. I literally _ran into _Thane and his men when I was on my way out.'

'And ran back to his skirts,' said Albus.

Now she _did _throw him a defiant look. 'I lied to save my neck. If I hadn't done that, you would all probably be dead. There was nothing in the world, not one thing, compelling me to betray Prometheus Thane and Raskoph in Ager Sanguinis and help you break out. _Why _would I do that, if I'd given you to them with a bow on top?'

Rose fell silent. The words struck true, but they were thudding against a conviction which had sat in her bones for two years. She hadn't _hated _Eva Saida, because hate was for those capable of feeling, and certainly the blame for Scorpius' death had fallen more heavily on Joachim Raskoph and Prometheus Thane. But Saida's betrayal had been a truth for all this time, and when it came to the details surrounding Ager Sanguinis, Rose's usual logical thought was not as fluid.

'If you changed your ways,' Albus said, glaring broadswords at her, 'then why didn't you hand yourself over to the IMC?'

'So they could lock me in prison, throw away the key, and pester me only to loot my brain for intel on the Council?' Eva Saida raised an eyebrow. 'I said I didn't want to be on the side of Raskoph's lunacy or Thane's _using _of me any more. I didn't say I'd become an idiot overnight.'

'Facing justice isn't idiocy.'

'Whose life would be _better _by my being punished? Who would be safer, who would be happier? Who would be brought back from the dead?' She shook her head. 'Nobody. But Baz doesn't care about my background. Lots of people are in my position; we worked for the Council of Thorns until we realised _quite _how insane they are, and now we want out, but we don't fancy jail-time.'

'So you can pretend you're absolving yourself of your sins while conveniently avoiding consequences,' sneered Albus.

Eva Saida's expression didn't change. 'I said I'm not an idiot. There _is _no absolution. There's only the time I have left, and what I do with it.'

'Poetic, but -'

'She can help,' said Matt.

Everyone fell silent, stunned - including Saida. Rose fought to find words before Albus could explode again, throat tight. 'I'm not sure I can give an opinion on this.' It wasn't the most helpful contribution, so she pressed on. 'I _do _believe that she didn't betray us in Venice, though. Which is a problem.'

Albus made a face. 'That was two years ago -'

'And if _she _didn't betray us, then who did, Al? Who knew where we even _were_? We went there _explicitly _to avoid detection.'

'While I agree that's important,' Matt said, lifting his hands, 'it's a problem for _after _we've rescued Selena. And this isn't about her story, this is about her working for Baz for the last two years. Baz isn't an idiot; he knew this meeting was important, and he wouldn't have brought her if he couldn't rely on her. We trusted Baz with our lives before, didn't we? _Scorpius _trusted Baz when we couldn't trust anyone else. I say we trust her, through Baz.'

Rose bit her lip. 'We _are _going to need help. Even if that help's just an extra wand-arm, we can't call in backup.'

Albus didn't move, hands still planted on the table. She could see how stiff he was, see the tension in the sinews in his powerful arms. 'There is no way,' he said in a low, deliberate voice, 'that I'm going into a fight with her by my side.'

'Then I guess we'll see you back in Britain,' said Matt bluntly.

Al looked up. 'You're -'

'We need her.' Matt straightened to his full height, which meant he still had to lift his head to look Albus in the eye. 'And I dare say we need her more than we need you. I owe you nothing, and getting Selena back is _absolutely _more important to me than your feelings. Selena's your friend, you say? You _ran out _on us. On her, on Rose, on all of us. Now is not the time for you to play the card of being "one of us" so we value your opinion. You're _not _one of us, Al. By your own choice.'

Rose knew she'd win no prizes in self-awareness for noticing she'd grown colder over the last two years. But it was only now when she looked at Matt, saw the steel in his grey eyes, saw how tall he stood, that she realised he'd grown, too, and grown harder from experiences she'd never seen, never known, never understood. While she had wilfully ignored all the signs that he was hiding something from her, he'd been becoming a new person, and she had to wonder if she even knew that man.

Albus stared at Matt for a moment, then his gaze went to Saida. Rose would have sworn he flinched before he said, 'Why do you even _want _to help us? It looks like you've got a good gig here with Baz.'

'If I told you,' said Eva Saida coolly, 'would you believe me?'

Albus grimaced. 'Probably not.'

'Then I think I've issued enough self-justification for one day. It's decided?'

Matt looked at Rose, who managed a stiff nod despite herself. 'It's decided.'

'Good.' Saida reached for the file to rifle through more papers. 'I know which berth they're at. I agree with - with Potter, I'm not sure we'll be able to snatch a member of the crew for Weasley to interrogate. But this is a location which relies heavily on secrecy; too many people and they won't be able to keep a low profile. I don't think the Council knows we know about the ship, so a full assault isn't the worst plan in the world.'

Rose took a deep breath, and felt warmth cram in with it as her mind started to rattle along, cogs whirring which had been still for years. She had looked at intellectual challenges, magical and research-based, and done fine. But this was people, problems, life and death, and old instincts were rearing their heads. 'Then we want to find a way to cut off their communications and ideally their portkeys. Stop them from calling in reinforcements, and stop anyone from dropping in.'

'Swiftness will be key,' said Saida. 'They've got to be _able _to raise the alarm, and if we sneak on board we can get the drop on them.'

'And if they have security charms,' said Rose, 'we can turn their spells to _our_ advantage.'

Saida grinned, a flash of satisfaction like a knife cutting through her mask - then smothered it almost as quickly. It was, Rose acknowledged with a grimace, no different than the surprised, pleased smirks Lisa Delacroix had given them.

'Rotterdam it is,' said Matt. 'I'll get on the Floo to Dad, see what he can do for us.' He looked at Saida. 'Pack your gear; we'll be gone in two hours.'

'I'd expect three, under the current circumstances of international travel,' she said, 'but very well.'

They both left, Saida without a look behind her, Matt to the closed room for Floo communication and transit, leaving an array of maps and scribbles on the table, and a motionless Albus.

Rose took a slow breath. 'You've seen her since Ager Sanguinis.' It wasn't a question.

He planted his hands on the table, shoulders squaring. 'Berlin. A couple weeks after I left Britain. She sought me out.'

'And you didn't think that'd be important?'

His expression twisted. 'Why would it -'

'We spent _two years _thinking she was the traitor!' The words bubbled up from her throat, catapulting Rose around the table to grab Albus by the arm. She had to stop herself from trying to shake him; not that she'd have the strength. 'I thought she'd sold us out and then got cold feet!'

'How can you believe her -'

'She freed us, and then _left _the Council! There's no loyalty to them! No manipulation of us! Why would she lie?'

'Because _that__'s what she does_!' He turned to her with a snarl, lip curling. 'She lies, she tricks, that's _who she is_. I can't _believe _you and Matt are okay with her being here!'

'This isn't about that! She didn't explain anything in Ager Sanguinis, but she came to you _after_, professed innocence. I'm not saying _all is forgiven_, but at the very, _very _least, you owed everyone back home a warning that _someone else _sold us out to the Council! Or of the _possibility_!'

'There was no possibility,' he rumbled, 'because she's a liar. They were empty words.'

'I don't think they were. Which means somebody else who knew we were in Venice told the Council. Doesn't that _scare _you?'

'Does it matter?'

'_Nobody knew_! Except - oh, shit.'

He frowned as she put a hand to her forehead. 'Except what?'

The hand slammed on the table. 'Scorpius wrote to his father before we left Andros Island. He wanted to talk to him after what happened with his mother - but had to write some things down first. I think that letter might have mentioned Venice. I'm not sure; I didn't see it, I don't remember what he said.'

Albus hesitated. 'You think Draco Malfoy sold out his own son? They used _him _for Lethe!'

'How is that harder to believe than that Eva Saida risked her own neck over and over for us, sold us out, then decided to help us escape?' She watched him flinch again, watched his jaw tighten. 'I cannot believe you've sat on this for two years, letting Malfoy, or _whoever _betrayed us, get away with this. _They _are as complicit in Scorpius' death as Thane, as Raskoph, and they have walked away from this!'

'All I did was refuse to pass on her lies. You're making a huge mistake in trusting her.'

She folded her arms across her chest. 'Or is it too hard for you to consider she might _sometimes _tell the truth?'

'I don't -'

'Because then you might have to accept the possibility she really _did _love you?'

Then he was right in front of her, looming and red-faced. 'You have no clue - no right -'

'I have _every _right.' He was huge, using his bulk to intimidate like he never used to, ruthless in using every weapon at his disposal. Rose's voice came out like granite nevertheless. 'Because I was the one who stayed. You've been a _coward _for two years, Albus. Matt's right; you don't get to lecture us.'

'_Matt__'s _right?' A mocking tone crept in. 'Maybe, but have you noticed how he's just about ready to set the world on fire to get Selena back?'

He had mastered, Rose thought, Scorpius' art of hurting everyone else when hurt. 'I've noticed,' she said in a low, flat voice, 'and that's none of your business.'

'And Eva Saida and I,' said Albus, 'are none of _yours_.' With that, he turned on his heel to stalk into the bunkroom.

Rose let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, loosened the grip on her wand she hadn't realised she'd taken. She was almost certain that Albus wouldn't hurt her, but 'almost' wasn't good enough when she saw how much he'd changed in two years, and when all of her survival instincts were fired up.

So she almost blew Matt's head off by reflex when he stepped out of the Floo chamber, his expression so wooden she knew he'd heard the key points of the argument. 'Dad can get us to Rotterdam in a few hours,' he said, voice bland. 'I didn't tell him why. What he doesn't know, he can't be implicated in. But he did have some news.'

She raised an eyebrow and accepted they were all going to pretend nothing had just happened. 'News?'

'Selena was looking into a magical corporations who were suspected of smuggling unknown goods into and across Europe; this was her latest story for the _Clarion_. Turns out that these corporations have all been bought out by the same coalition. And, based on the locations of the warehouses… Dad reckons that he knows what they were smuggling in: Lethe.'

That wasn't what she'd expected. 'You're saying Selena was chasing a lead on how the Council got the virus into countries in the first place?'

'Makes me wonder if she was grabbed for reasons other than being Lillian Rourke's daughter. Maybe she knew something she hadn't passed up the chain.'

Rose's brow furrowed. 'If so… I don't know, it would have to be something she didn't know was important. Selena's got a great poker face, but we were having drinks together, _nothing _about a huge secret at work - I don't know. Who's behind this coalition?'

'We don't know, yet,' Matt admitted. 'But Dad's on the case. Lot of Ministerial records on corporate buy-outs - they get legal oversight on this - which he's going to have to get his hands on, and the Ministry isn't exactly being forthcoming right now on handing out information.'

'But this could be about Lethe.'

'Could be. It's just a theory. And this is the Ministry; are you surprised? Halvard wouldn't dare sneeze if it might make him look weak. And I bet from now he'll have to ask Lillian Rourke for a tissue.' He scratched his ear. 'I also told him to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy.'

She nodded, and didn't let her expression change. 'Good. It's just a theory.'

'It makes sense.' He shoved his hands in his pockets, then glanced to the bunkroom. 'And - I'm going to do some training while we wait. Unless you wanted the room.'

That she was not invited to join him couldn't have been clearer. Rose shook her head. 'No. I'll read a little out here. I may need to brush up on my Legilimency techniques.'

'Not volunteering for playing guinea pig.' His smile, while trying very hard, didn't reach his eyes, and he turned, awkward, to leave for the bunkroom.

She didn't stop him. Selena's abduction was bringing them together, dragging Albus to them and forcing secrets past Matt's walls. But with every step, Rose could see more and more how that closeness was in sore danger of ripping them apart with its honest truths.

* * *

><p>Rotterdam gleamed against the darkness, a reflection of the stars above amplified a thousand times and speckled with gold. The daily business of the harbour had quietened down, the only activity from ships which had no choice but to come in at a later hour, and there were none of those at the derelict section of the docks Eva Saida had led them to.<p>

Apparition and charms got them past the security measures without trouble, and they'd had the good fortune to find an abandoned guard post overlooking their target. It hid them from sight as effectively as it sheltered them from the cold, and it made an excellent staging post when they had only a few hours of prep-time.

'Those anti-incursion charms are going to be a problem,' Saida was saying to Matt and Rose, the three of them around the table on which sat their diagrams of the area and the _Naglfar_. 'They're going to need to be down before we're within twenty metres of the ship, or everyone on board is going to know about us.'

'Those have to be detecting magical signatures,' said Rose. 'Or they'd go off every time a seagull came close. They have other ways of keeping Muggles back; this has to be for security against wizards.'

'I agree, but transfiguring ourselves into seagulls isn't going to be enough.'

Matt leaned over the diagrams. 'How far down do the detection wards go?'

Saida shook her head. 'It's a bubble, so far as I can tell. No way of breaking in from above or from under the surface.'

'That's going to give us a hell of a time of getting past them without being noticed,' Matt said.

Rose furrowed her brow. 'If they detect magical signatures, not physical presences, we might be able to do something to reduce that. Like not having our wands when we cross the threshold.'

'That would still send up a ping,' said Saida.

'It would. But what if we combined it with a false alarm? Use illusions to have something which looks big but turns out to be innocuous approach from one side, and slip in from the other just after. They'll investigate, see our diversion, and assume that's what we were, too.'

Saida raised her eyebrows. 'What kind of false alarm?'

'Nixe,' said Matt. 'Local water spirits. They could detect the magic around the boat, get curious. I bet you don't get many in the harbour, but they do sometimes wander this close to shore. At worst, if we fake them coming from the opposite side, we can draw the attention of the crew long enough to slip on board and take them out.'

Saida gave a slow nod. 'It depends on what Potter has to say.'

Albus himself didn't arrive for another ten minutes. The door burst open with nobody in sight, until it slammed shut and he appeared all of a sudden, yanking off the Invisibility Cloak. He'd stripped down to swim, and was sopping wet and shivering. 'Charms,' he gulped, grabbing a towel off Rose gratefully, 'only do so much in the _North Sea _in _October._ It's fucking freezing in there.'

'Good,' said Saida, who hadn't lifted her head at his arrival. 'It'll make the Thornweavers less willing to investigate the waters.'

'What did you see?' said Rose.

He dried his hair, then wrapped the towel around himself. Warming charms came from his wand, but they would take a few moments to kick in. 'Six on the deck. Regular patrol routes.' He paused in his charming to tap the wand on the diagrams, leaving moving markers. 'I couldn't get below deck, no doors out of sight and none of them were open. I think we're only looking at another six or so below decks. Could be more, probably isn't less.'

Saida nodded. 'So, twelve to fifteen or so Thornweavers, possibly more. We absolutely don't want an open fight. Even four against six on deck could be vicious. We have to take them out before they can report to those below.'

'There's more,' said Albus, his expression taut. 'I overheard two of the Thornweavers talking. Erik Geiger's running this operation.'

They all fell silent. Even Rose, who had kept the least up-to-date with the affairs of the Council of Thorns, knew the name. Geiger had been one of Acosta's right hand men in the administration in Brazil, but was credited with helping Raskoph's takeover. Theorised to be a descendant of a Thule Society member who'd fled to South America after the war, his was a formidable reputation.

'I guess that means they're taking this place seriously,' said Matt.

'I would say this guarantees the _Naglfar _played a key role in the Lethe attacks,' Saida said. 'And it guarantees we are going to have to do everything right.'

'Then it sounds like we have a plan,' said Rose, and brought Albus up to speed.

* * *

><p>The <em>Naglfar <em>was a long, ugly freighter, very old and very battered, and having already snuck on deck, Albus knew that wasn't an illusion. Magics kept it going, magics kept it reinforced, and magics even kept it from drawing too much attention, though its derelict appearance helped. It was larger a dozen crew needed, though he presumed the enchantments to prepare Portkeys to transit someone across Europe and through all international transportation barriers would be big and probably had a power source. But it was a distance from the harbour, and he could walk across the pier without fear of being spotted. Even if he was, he was just a figure walking on the shore a distance away, no threat to them.

Saida had gone to double-check the wards while they rounded off the plan, and so Albus only had three out of their four wands on him. He could see her sat atop one of the shipping containers abandoned on the dock, overlooking the harbour.

His clamber to join her was not quiet. He was a big guy and the container was metal and she was a professional. The tension in her shoulders as he pulled himself up was visible, and he heard her slow exhale as she lowered her wand. 'It's time?'

'Unless you found something specific.' His voice came out gruffer than he meant it, habitual by now.

'No. The wards haven't changed. They didn't notice you slip on board.'

'If they could detect the Invisibility Cloak, we'd have a world of new problems.'

She stood, dusting herself off. 'No. Just the problem in front of us.'

His jaw tensed. 'You're not in the habit of looking at the big picture, are you?'

Eva Saida lifted her dark-eyed gaze to meet his, calm, emotionless, and he fought to not flinch. 'The way I hear it, neither are you these days.'

'You don't know -'

'I know you went, and I know you stayed gone.' She sighed. 'I don't expect you to forgive me or trust me. Maybe work _with_ me on this mission, but that's the choice all of you have to make. So don't assume I have an ulterior motive when I say this…'

He cut her off. 'I will always assume you have an ulterior motive.'

'So I see. But you shouldn't hide from a truth, just because it makes you regret your past choices, just because it makes it uncomfortable for you to look at yourself. I know.'

His lip curled. 'I don't know what -'

'You left because of _me_.' Now she looked away, and her voice had dropped from the cold, professional tones to that softer uncertainty he remembered from the Caribbean, from Venice. 'Scorpius made you grieve, but I made you run. Because by trusting me you hadn't just hurt yourself, but got him killed. You weren't ready to hear me profess my innocence two years ago. But you are now, except that if you believe me, you have to accept that you ran away for the wrong reasons.'

'That is _not _the problem,' Albus said, only half-lying.

'Not only. But you're ignoring a possible traitor in your midst because it makes your _personal _life uncomfortable.'

'Are you here to help us free Selena, or to play my therapist?'

'You could all do with it,' she said. 'It's like looking at completely different people. The three of you are held together by piano wire; it's bound you tight but you're straining hard, and you'll get sliced up if you're not careful.'

'You didn't have to come with us.'

She rolled her eyes. 'And you are _all _far more interested in being defensive than getting the job done. Except for Matt, who's got the look of a man who'll let us all burn if it gets him to her. If you _really _want to help Selena, you could listen to me and acknowledge that your issues and problems are getting in the way of, yes, I'll say it, _professionalism_.'

_We__'re a renegade group hunting down the Council of Thorns because we don't trust the proper authorities to get the job done. There is nothing professional about this. _But that point, however valid, wouldn't prove her wrong. It would only add fuel to her argument. 'Then why aren't you lecturing the others?'

'I think they know this already. Telling them won't change it. You, however, are wound up so tight by your own damage that if you're not careful, you're going to explode and kill us all.'

He scoffed. 'At last, we get to the truth of your concern: risk to you.'

'If I was worried only about my own neck, I wouldn't _be _here, Albus,' she replied, eyebrow arched.

'Then why _are _you here?'

She turned away, back to the _Naglfar_, and her voice was, while low, firm enough that he knew he was supposed to hear. 'Because I owe you, all of you, including Selena, my unconditional help. And because I couldn't live with myself if I let _you _walk into this alone.' He faltered, and she looked back at him, gaze unwavering. 'I was going to do you the courtesy of not repeating things you clearly don't believe and don't want to hear. But stop digging for some justification for my actions which fits the image you've built up of me. That woman doesn't exist. Maybe she did, but she died somewhere down the line, on Brillig Island or Cat Island or Ager Sanguinis; I'm not sure, but I know that _you _killed her.'

Something in his chest broke. 'I didn't ask you to be here. But Matt's calling the shots, and maybe you'll be useful, so here you are. Don't think that means I am even _beginning _to believe you, let alone forgive you. I will be watching. And if you betray us, if you give me the slightest reason to doubt you, I will kill you quicker than you can blink.'

Her lips curled, that confident smile he remembered, the one which reminded him what she was. 'I didn't betray you. And I haven't forgotten you. But I'm not defenceless.'

'Except that you're going to give me your wand. Because that's the plan.' He stuck his hand out, jaw setting, not ashamed of using their plan to exploit her weakness.

She did flinch at that, and his gut churned like the deepest waters of the harbour. 'Then I guess we'll see what kind of man you are.' She twisted her wand in her grip and extended to him, pointed back towards her.

He all but snatched it off her, and didn't say another word as he clambered down from the shipping contained before stalking away. They didn't have much time. They had to get to work.

And he had to get her words out of his head.

_My whole life, you have been the only thing that__'s real…_


	10. Confusion and Illusion

**Confusion and Illusion**

Armand Corentin wasn't sure who he'd upset, but he knew it was someone important. Possibly it was one of his superiors; possibly some cosmic entity.

It wasn't that he explicitly _wanted _to be part of the teams striking across the world. He was a professional, not a man eager for bloodshed, and he had little fondness for the eerie shock-troopers of the Council of Thorns, the raised corpses of the Lethe-infused Inferi. Business was business, so he had neither reservation nor desire for the vicious attacks.

But he had even less desire to be stuck on the creaking, leaking freighter _Naglfar. _And he had an active hatred for being on the night watch while docked at Rotterdam in late October.

'Tell me we'll be going somewhere warm next,' he groaned, watching the light-show of the Muggle city squatting against the night sky.

Reinhardt, on watch duty with him, lit his pipe. 'In Europe? With winter coming? No.'

'We could go to the Mediterranean -'

'Only _less cold_. Not warm. No, we get no warmth until we transfer to Africa.'

Corentin brightened. 'They're swapping us with the _Gjallerhorn_?'

'No.' Reinhardt puffed on his pipe. 'No, we stay here. In the cold. Waiting. Without hazard pay.'

Corentin let off a stream of French curses which had the corners of Reinhardt's lips curling, but he was cut off by the rumbling at his breastbone. The two men exchanged glances, before they fished out the lockets hung about their necks, flicking them open to show the mirrors within.

'Contact,' came Erik Geiger's gravelly voice, dark eye gleaming through the mirror from where he was bundled up, warm and dry, in the command centre. 'Starboard side. Something breaching the wards.'

They were at the prow of the ship, but if there was an incursion, reinforcements would be needed. Wands in hand, the two hurried across the deck to where Eisenhorn and Bertonelli stood at the railing, peering into the darkness. Neither looked particularly concerned.

'It's nothing, sir,' Eisenhorn was saying into her mirror as they got there. 'Just some water spirits. They must have been attracted by the magic from the portkey enchantments.'

Geiger frowned as Corentin looked at his mirror. 'That's the bulk of them. One or two approaching from port. Drive them off if they get too close.'

'Yes, sir,' Eisenhorn said. She sounded as disinterested as she usually did. 'But they're not approaching further.'

Corentin went to the railing and peered at the darkness. He could barely see the shapes breaking the waves through the gloom, but then a figure surfaced at a patch engulfed by the lights of Rotterdam. There was a shimmer of gold on gold hair, on pale skin, and he gave a crooked grin. 'It makes the evening nicer.'

He'd been careful to speak away from his communication mirror, but Eisenhorn rolled her eyes. 'Not if they're interfering with the detection wards.' She looked at the reflection of Geiger's eyes. 'We're on it, sir.'

'A few spells will drive them off,' said Reinhardt. 'You two can handle it?' He was already grabbing Corentin by the sleeve and pulling him back towards the prow of the ship.

'A few water spirits?' Eisenhorn looked insulted at the implication.

'It's good they pay us so well,' Corentin muttered as Reinhardt led him around the deck, back towards their patrol sector. 'Or they wouldn't have professionals who can handle some _water spirits_.'

'They don't usually come this close to land.'

'Like Eisenhorn said. Attracted by the magic. And maybe our pretty faces?' Corentin grinned and elbowed Reinhardt.

And Reinhardt fell over.

Corentin's wand was in his hand before his partner hit the deck, but as he spun he could see nobody. Not an attacker, not one of the other teams - they had gone too far around the ship - and so when the next Stun came spitting out of literally nowhere, he wasn't ready. It hit him dead on and he collapsed to the deck with a solid _thump _that rattled his bones and made his head spin.

Which meant he couldn't do more than gawk as the shadows shifted and a tall, broad, dark-haired man appeared out of literally nowhere, dripping wet, wand in hand. He stared, trying to work his jaw, lift his own wand, but it was all for nothing at the fresh spurt of magic, the sparks rocketing towards him.

Then darkness.

* * *

><p>Eva Saida was accustomed to suffering. Physical suffering, emotional suffering, psychological suffering. She had endured it, she had inflicted it, she had attempted to ease it. The last had been her least successful. But there were moments she thought she'd endure all of it all over again if it meant she didn't have to spend another second clinging to the hull of the <em>Naglfar, <em>engulfed in the freezing waters of the Rotterdam harbour. Warming charms only lasted so long, and she didn't have her wand. This was going to get dangerous if it lasted much longer.

So when a rope flew over the side, she didn't stop to question if it was smart to clamber up; she was too damn cold. With a speed that surprised her, she scrambled up to the railing, and her heart lunged into her throat when she saw Albus stood over her.

It was all part of the plan. But she'd spent so long trying to scrub him from her mind, from her guts, that to see him again when all of her senses jangled with professional alertness was jarring.

And he'd changed. They all had, including her, but none as much as Albus. He no longer exuded that warmth, and his encouraging confidence had turned inward, a sharp and steely determination. It had been his greatest virtue that his power and strength spread outward, wrapping over others as protection and a reinforcement, but no more did he reach out.

_You. You did this to him._

Forget Rose's echoing grief, forget the fire that threatened to engulf Matt, and she wasn't stopping to wonder what had happened to Selena these past years. This was the man who'd made her turn on her whole world, and in return she had shattered his.

'All clear?' she said as she grasped the railing.

'Matt and Rose are at the aft. Starboard still not clear.'

She nodded, bracing her feet on the deck. 'My wand?'

He pulled her wand from his belt. Under the shroud of the Cloak of Invisibility, he had got the wands through the _Naglfar_'s wards undetected, minimising everyone's personal magical signatures as they approached. And once on deck, an illusion of mermaids and water spirits to confuse the wards as to what was actually approaching was child's play. But they had no idea what lay beyond the decks of the _Naglfar_, and she didn't want to be unarmed.

His grip on her wand was tight as he levelled it at her. It wasn't a proper grip of a man who meant to use it, but she still had a wand in her face, and for a moment their eyes met, blazing dark against green as hard as jade. Her mouth went dry. 'Albus…'

_He could kill me here, lie to the others, say the guards found us. They__'d never know. They probably wouldn't ask._

Then a shadow shifted over his shoulder, and she moved without thinking. His wand was in his other hand, near the rope he'd conjured, and it was for that she reached. He was too startled, locked in his hesitation, and then she had his wand, was raising it, letting off a Stun -

- which hit the Thornweaver guard who'd just rounded the corner to see them.

Albus' head whipped around as the Thornweaver hit the deck, and the hesitation left his face for shock and, she thought, something softer around the edges when he looked back at her. Shame? He let out a deep, quavering breath. 'Good eyes.'

Eva swung over the railing, and flipped his wand back to him, handle-first. 'You need to keep _your _eyes on the mission. You can kill me later.'

There was no point in pretending he hadn't considered it. If only for a heartbeat. Colour rushed to his cheeks as they swapped wands, and for a moment he was the young man whose ideals had infected her, whose good nature had choked to death the woman she'd once been. 'I don't -'

'This op goes better if we stop pretending, and if we focus on the enemy. I promise you'll get your chance once Selena's safe. In-fighting in the meantime is a great way for _everyone _to wind up dead.' She looked up and down the deck before she met his gaze. 'When this is over, find me. And we'll finish this.' If she was honest with herself, she had no idea what would happen at that finish. But it would get them through tonight.

He turned away without an answer, sent another spell at the fallen Thornweaver to keep them unconscious, and raised his wand up in a ready guard. 'Let's get to the others.' She followed him down the deck, watching their backs, and soon the question of how Rose and Matt's sweep was going was answered with the sound of magic. 'Come on!' Albus urged.

They rounded the corner to the open middle section of the freighter and burst into a firefight. Spells rocketed across them, and she had to grab the back of Albus' sopping wet jacket to pull him out of the way of a Stun. But at least they could see both sides of the fight.

Everyone was spread out. One Thornweaver had Matt pinned down behind a packing crate, spells thudding into the wood and sending splinters flying while all he could do was reinforce his cover with magic so it didn't shatter. Rose was in a better position, out in the open and up to her elbows in a pitched duel with the other Thornweaver, magic flying between them so quickly that even Eva couldn't see whose spell was whose.

'Stick with me,' Albus said before she could offer input, and ran along the side of the cargo container they'd emerged from behind, keeping in its shadow with the hope they hadn't been noticed yet. She was of a mind to split up and reinforce both allies at once, but she knew better than to argue once the call had been made. And she'd trusted his combat instincts once. She followed.

The Thornweaver on Matt was too focused on trying to blast his cover to smithereens to spot them, but it wasn't to him that Albus went. He led her to a cargo contained on the port side, to the flank and behind the Thornweaver, and glanced to Eva as their shoulders hit metal. 'Give me a boost up,' he whispered.

She wasn't sure why he was keeping his voice down under the spray of spells, but without a word she Levitated him up. He could have climbed, even if he'd be noisy and slow; they weren't about to be noticed, and it was only when she heard the gurgle and thud of a body hitting metal that she realised.

There'd been a third Thornweaver on a vantage point up high, probably waiting for a clear shot before they struck and revealed themselves. She hadn't even spotted them.

Albus' head stuck over the edge a heartbeat later. 'I got Matt. Go to Rose.'

There was a firefight between Eva and Rose, so that took looping around the back again. Matt was still pinned down, but she could see Albus settling for a clear shot on the Thornweaver raining spell after spell down on him. Al would be timing his strike, making sure he could get a Stun off in a lapse in the Thornweaver's concentration so it could break through any Shield in one go. But that wasn't her priority now, not her fight to assess.

The fight _she _had to assess was brutal.

Rose and the Thornweaver she fought had given up on niceties of Stuns. Both women were now hurling slashing strikes that ripped clothes and threatened lethality. Blood streamed down the side of Rose's face from a cut at her cheek, and the Thornweaver's left arm hung useless by her side, the bone broken. This had become a fight of kill or be killed.

Eva's instincts approved. The crumpled embers of old memories curled up inside her gleamed a strange sort of distress; not compassion, but grieving for something long gone.

It was those embers, not her instincts, which won as Eva ducked behind a wooden crate and hurled spells to reinforce Rose. The Stun rocketed at the Thornweaver, but sheer bad luck had the woman spin away from the magic. Eva had to duck at the counterstrike -

Then a heavy, metal shipping container flew through the air and thudded into the Thornweaver. There had to be the most exquisite precision to its movements, because the container stopped the moment it sent her flying, and while the Thornweaver hit the deck hard, she was still breathing. The sparks of Rose's spell barely died at the tip of her wand before she finished it off with a Stun.

Eva let out a string of involuntary curse words in her native Arabic, and that had Rose reel around, wand raised before she saw her.

'Thanks for the distraction.'

Eva stood, blinking. 'That crate could have _easily _killed her.' The impact alone could have been enough, but the slightest miscalculation in its flight would have kept it going, turning anyone into a smear.

Rose lifted a hand to the cut on her cheek. It had not sliced through her cold, impassive mask. 'I knew what I was doing. But I wouldn't have been that sorry. She tried to Avada Kedavra Matt.'

_I would have once thought that to be a good reason to _not _hold back. _Now, she just didn't know what to say, but the reminder of Matt prompted her to turn to the rest of the fight. Just in time to see Albus launch a spell with surgical precision to take down the last Thornweaver standing.

'There's no telling if they've raised the alarm,' said Rose in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, like she hadn't just almost turned a human being into a bloodied smear, when the four of them reconvened in the middle of the deck. 'They've got two-way mirror lockets to communicate below decks. I don't know if they got the chance to send a message.'

If her lasting legacy to the Council of Thorns was popularising that form of instant communication, Eva was going to scream. 'We have to assume they _did _raise the alarm, and move fast.'

'I say we split up,' said Matt. 'It's confined space below decks; neither our numbers nor theirs will make much difference. We might find records in the command centre, or we'll need the Portkey rituals to get the transport histories at the very source.'

'Then I'm on the rituals,' said Rose. 'I'm the best at unpicking those. Which means I should take Al or Saida; you two are the best fighters, you should be split up.'

_No arguments here_. Eva looked between them. 'I'll go with Matt to the command centre. If there are additional Council wards or mechanisms there, I'll have the best chance of figuring them out. And that's where Geiger's most likely to be; I know him, I know how he fights.'

'I would prefer to avoid Geiger entirely,' said Rose.

'So would I. But we might not have that luxury. He's one of Raskoph's personal favourites; do _not _underestimate him.'

'We've got the plan,' said Matt. 'If they raised the alarm, we might see reinforcements from elsewhere. So we'd better move fast.'

They split up, Eva leading the way to the aft stairway, the closest access point to where the magical signatures of the wards converged below deck. All of the ship's defences had to be controlled from there, and if the Council was keeping any kind of records of what happened on board the _Naglfar _- which Eva wasn't convinced would be the case - that was where they'd be.

The stairway was dank and gloomy, the air stagnant and salty, the walls dripping and mouldy, and they couldn't advance quietly on metal steps. But it was _empty_, and so Eva kept her wand up and watched the hatches ahead for of the slightest twitch of movement, Matt close on her heels, sword in hand. She approved. In these close quarters, that could make all the difference.

But still she had to speak. 'When did the lot of you become willing to kill?'

Matt took a heartbeat longer to answer than he should have. 'We've not killed.'

'No, but if Rose had twitched in the wrong way, she would have turned that Thornweaver into paste.'

'You do what you have to in a fight. She _didn__'t _kill anyone. And suddenly _you__'re _passing judgement?' His voice was tight. 'I've seen your file, Eva Saida. I know how many people you've killed.'

'Like hell has my every kill been identified in official records,' she said without pride. 'You didn't even know I worked for Baz, and I assure you I've killed Thornweavers for him in the last two years.'

'And you're getting uppity about_ us_?'

'I would need to be truly delusional to judge. But it's -'

Then his hand was on her shoulder, and she clamped down with iron control on the instincts which told her to blow a hole in his skull just for touching her without her permission. 'Let me make this clear,' Matt hissed in her ear. 'I didn't want you along because I like you, or because I forgive you, or because I think you shouldn't be thrown in the darkest, dampest cell when this is over. You know about the Council. You're a good fighter. That is _it_. So I don't need your ethical opinions on people ten times better than you.'

She didn't look at him, because then she wouldn't be looking at the corridor ahead. 'You want Selena back more than you want to indulge your personal issues,' Eva said, voice calm. 'That means that you're the last person here I'm afraid of.'

'Maybe,' Matt grumbled, letting his hand drop. 'But I'm the person here with you.'

She could have blasted him against a wall, proved that even with her back to him, she could drop him in a heartbeat. Once, she would have, just to make a point. But they had work to do, more important concerns than their group dynamics, and even though Eva wasn't convinced the collective damage of the remains of the Hogwarts Five wasn't going to get them all killed, she kept silent and carried on into the belly of the beast.

* * *

><p>'If we see Geiger,' said Rose, 'we need to open fire as quickly as possible.'<p>

Albus led the way as they advanced down the stairway to the cargo bay. 'You kept up your fighting skills.'

'The Council of Thorns spent the last few months trying to kill me. Again. You think I had a choice?'

'You're better than you were. More vicious.'

_I don__'t know if that's better. _Getting a look of shock from _Eva Saida _for her recklessness with lives was not an accomplishment of which Rose was proud. Then again, nothing made her feel proud these days. Certainly very little made her feel guilty, and almost killing a Thornweaver who would have slain her and Matt without batting an eyelid didn't come close. 'I want to get through this with all of us alive and safe. Including Selena.'

They cleared a doorway to the next stairwell down, saw nothing but gloomy metal and heard nothing but an echoing drip. Albus frowned. 'The alarm can't have been raised. There might not be many crewmembers left, but we'd have _seen _them by now.'

'Unless they're reinforcing key locations.'

'Except we could just blow this whole boat up and cripple Council operations. No, they'd be intercepting us if they knew we were here,' said Albus, and swung out into the corridor ahead of her. Then he froze. 'Shit.'

'What?' Rose darted after him, wand ready. Then she, too, stopped. 'Oh.'

'That wasn't us.' Further down the corridor lay a pair of bodies, unmoving, their own blood pooled around them. They had the same kind of worn garb as the Thornweavers up top, and they were definitely dead.

'Someone else is here,' said Rose, voice dropping.

'And they're ahead of us.' Albus gritted his teeth. 'Forget subtlety. We need to move fast,' he said, and pointed his wand down.

'What're you doing?'

He glanced up at her before the tip of his wand sparked. 'Shortcut.'

She was reminded of the time they'd broken into the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts, three years ago now, inspired by the Marauders' Map and the echoes of his grandfather and his friends. But back then their pressing concerns had been possible danger of possible death, and the teen-aged woes of her romantic tangling and mishaps with Scorpius.

Not definite death, definite abduction, and the grief of earth-shattering loss. The memory felt like it had happened to someone else.

But the principle held firm, and within seconds Albus was clambering through a hole in the deck onto the level below, clearing the way before he helped her down. 'Three decks until the cargo bay.'

Searing through the floor made short work of those decks. 'Let's _not _break into the cargo bay like this,' she said as her boots hit metal for the third time. 'From the schematics, it's about five metres high. We might not get an uninterrupted levitation down if someone _is _in there.'

'Except that every wand is going to be pointed on the stairway,' said Albus. 'We attack like this, take them by surprise.'

Rose frowned at him. 'You never used to be this foolhardy.'

'And you used to be less cavalier with lives.' Albus flourished his wand at the deck. 'People change. Get ready to move the moment the way's clear; element of surprise only lasts us so long.'

They were supposed to be the level-headed ones. The calm, thoughtful members of their family, the ones who didn't do foolish, risky things. People _did _change, Rose had to concede, as the floor burst out from under them, and she dragged Albus down with her, casting a frantic levitation along with a shield. She could protect them, get them to the deck, and he could -

'_Stupefy!_'

- hurl down fire at anyone objecting to their rude entrance.

The cargo bay was a huge metal chamber, dimly lit, devoid of any actual cargo. But it was all the brighter for the ritual markings etched directly into the metal, permanent enchantments woven into the hull itself which could grant the power of a Portkey to anywhere in Europe, maybe even further. They ran across the deck and up the bulkheads, crawled along portions of the ceiling, and gleamed a vivid blue to cast everything with an ethereal, unreal light.

Including the three Thornweavers who stood with wands pointed at the empty stairway.

The good news was that they hadn't expected someone to come through the ceiling. The bad news was that there was no cover, and when Rose and Albus hit the deck hard, the levitation stopping bones from breaking but the impact still enough to rattle them, they were out in the open. One of the Thornweavers gave a bellowed warning in German, and then the air was thick with spells. Albus' Stun on their descent had staggered one, but not dropped him, and so it was three on two. And one of them was Erik Geiger.

He was a big man, about the size of Albus, grey-haired and in long, traditional wizarding robes where his comrades wore plain, hard-wearing Muggle clothing. There was barely a flicker in his eye when he parried the first spell she flung, and when his counter-strike thudded against her shield, it was enough to knock her back a few steps.

'I've got him,' she hissed to Albus. 'You take the others.'

He only grunted his assent, and like clockwork they moved. They'd not been back to back in a fight in over two years, but old habits died hard, and so there they were, spreading out so the Thornweavers couldn't focus their fire, close enough that she could help him parry a spell, or so he could fling a distracting blast at Geiger to give her a spot of breathing room.

Her plan wasn't to go toe-to-toe with one of the Council of Thorns' most formidable wizards and win. But she reckoned she could hold him off until Albus dealt with the other two, and then together they could drop Geiger. It was an ambitious plan, Rose had to concede as she was forced to move twice as fast, cast twice as fast, duck and weave and parry with more effort than Castagnary and his goons had ever dragged out of her, but it was the best plan they had.

And there were heartbeats, as the magic hummed through her veins and the spells shot past her and rattled off her shields and the air crackled with death and power, where she felt more alive than she had since bursting into a chamber in Ager Sanguinis with an iron-clad resolution that failure was not an option.

She'd failed anyway. She would not do so again.

Magic fizzed past her ear, Albus let off a spell which dropped one of the Thornweavers, and the odds were shifting to even out, if not favour them -

Then two figures in the black robes and masks of Thornweavers emerged from the stairwell, and Rose's heart caught in her throat. _Geiger called reinforcements. We__'re fucked._

The new arrivals sprinted across the cargo bay to line up with Geiger and his remaining crewmate. Their opening volley of spells were not subtle, were not sudden, and shields could easily be raised against them in time. But still the magic thudded into Albus' protections, then through them, then _into _him, and then Albus was hitting the deck and Rose was stood alone against four Thornweavers.

Geiger let out a rattling exhale, worn and tired but triumphant. 'Surrender,' he said, 'and I won't -'

Then one of the masked arrivals shot him in the back, and chaos was come again.

_What the hell is going on?_

Geiger wasn't dropped, but he and his comrades were turning on one another in frantic confusion, and for a moment nobody was paying Rose any attention. She turned to sprint towards Albus' fallen form, but then the one who'd shot Geiger pulled off his mask, and a familiar voice rang out, one she'd never forget and had heard not all that long ago.

Prometheus Thane.

'Weasley! Return the favour and give us a -'

It wasn't conscious hatred that made her stop halfway to Albus and turn her wand on Thane. Even if he'd saved her in Hogsmeade, even if she wasn't sure if Albus was alright, she couldn't stifle the wave of sheer hatred which turned everything into a narrow, focused tunnel with only one, simple goal.

_Kill him._

And now it was a three-way fight. Thane was forced back as he had to parry the blasts of Geiger _and _Rose, with no choice but to go on the defensive, and Geiger and Rose remained happy to take pot-shots at each other. Red and gold and green gleamed against the blue tinge to the metal, shrouding them in a kaleidoscope of spells and pain, and Rose knew that _this _moment was now the most alive she'd felt in years.

With vengeance at her fingertips.

There was a blast from behind her, and she was only dimly aware of Geiger's ally dropping to the deck. Thane parried her Stun with gritted teeth, and looked to his counterpart. 'Get her off me!' he ordered. Even as she broke off from Thane to round on his masked ally, she couldn't help but give a twisted grin of satisfaction that she'd left him _that _frantic, _that _hard-pressed. With or without Geiger's help.

But then Thane's ally was in her face, black mask too dull to reflect the spells flying around them, not even his eyes visible under the dark lenses. He was no Thane, no Geiger, and she could feel magic and hatred bubbling through her veins like a drug, enough to turn his spells aside, enough to hurl blow after blow down on him. He was using Stuns, but she had no such compunctions, and he was forced back, parrying and Shielding and barely able to hold his own.

Thane and Geiger were entrenched in their fight, and Albus still wasn't moving, and a small part of Rose's mind wondered where Saida and Matt were, if _they _were running into Thane's men or Geiger's. But even the concern for Matt didn't override the fire in her, and so it was with grim satisfaction that she watched her opponent dive to one side to avoid her next spell, his shields not holding. It meant her reflexes were sharp enough that when a shadow loomed to her right, a new assailant she hadn't expected, she was ready for it, reeling around to hurl her magic at -

Nothing. An illusionary opponent, just a shape who dissipated at her blast, a diversion. And then a spell from her masked enemy's wand cracked into her side and sent her flying. She hit the deck hard, head spinning at the impact, and though she kept her grip on her wand, the world didn't even out enough to let her regain control of the fight. The masked figure advanced, magic sparking at the tip of his wand, and had she been in his situation, she'd have fired right away, finished her off.

He didn't, and she had to exploit that error. Not with a spell at him, because he'd be ready for that. Instead, magic burst to his left, hitting the bulkhead with a harmless crackle, and he hesitated. Until the engravings she'd hit, not with a hex but with a spell to unravel that section of the ritual, sparked - and exploded as the enchantments destabilised with a burst of now-uncontained power.

The world evened out for her as he went flying, hitting the deck with a shout of pain, clutching at his face. He wasn't, she reflected with dissatisfaction, dead _or _unconscious, and she rose with her wand in hand, advancing to finish him off. He was lucky he'd worn the mask, she saw as he pulled the charred, smoldering remains away, because otherwise it might have done serious damage to his -

And Rose stopped when she looked down into the face of Scorpius Malfoy.

His eyes, more blue than ever in the shimmering lights of the portkey rituals, widened as they locked onto her, and there was that familiar twist of the lips of the wry, sheepish smile that had been etched into her dreams. He drew a raking breath. 'I told you I'd come back every time.'

Blood rushed in her ears, hatred howled away for echoing, cavernous loss, and the tiniest shard of her that could still think screamed at her to act, to cast, to Stun him, to _destroy _him - that this was a trick, a manipulation from Thane, that she was playing into his hands.

She didn't move. And that shard screamed that she was a fool when 'Scorpius', realising she wasn't going to act, rolled onto one knee, lifted his wand -

And blasted Geiger with a spell that sent him flying through the air, only to be struck by a finishing blow from Thane. Magic echoed through the bay into oblivion, until there was only the gleam of the rituals, the blood pounding in Rose's ears, and Prometheus Thane and the man who looked like Scorpius Malfoy turning to face her.

'Well,' said Thane, grimacing. 'This is a bit of a pickle.'

'Rose.' The man who looked Scorpius lifted his hands, twisting his wand in his grip so it was pointed down, unthreatening. 'It really is me, Rose, I promise -'

'Not helping,' snapped Thane, advancing. 'This isn't the time to -'

'_Don__'t move_!' Her voice came out creaky, nearly hysterical, and now her breathing was harsh, ragged, air suddenly insufficient. 'Thane, I don't know what the _hell _you're doing, but I'm going to kill you -'

'You're not,' said Thane, sounding rather tired. 'Because we outnumber you. You _could _let us patch up Potter, take the information from the ritual, and then _go_…'

The impostor looked at Thane, his brow creasing. 'It's not -'

'I am not blowing this operation because of her!' Thane snapped.

They all turned at thudding footsteps on the metal stairway, and Rose felt so light-headed she thought she really might pass out when Eva and Matt, who had a folder tucked under one arm, burst into the cargo bay with wands brandished.

They, too, froze. And Thane let out a deep breath. '_Eva_. It's always lovely to see you.'

Eva Saida's dark gaze flickered between the two men. 'The feeling isn't mutual. This is sick, Prometheus, even for you.'

'I really _am_ -'

'_Okay_!' Matt's voice rang out to interrupt the man who sounded like Scorpius, authoritative despite the shake. 'I don't know what's going on, but Thane, I've got you covered, and… whoever the fuck you are, Rose's wand is on you. Saida, make sure Al's alright.'

'He's breathing,' came Scorpius' voice. 'I checked.'

'You're not talking,' Matt continued. 'We don't have time to stick around. Geiger called in reinforcements; we could have more Thornweavers on us at any moment. But we've got the ritual records, so we're going to get Albus up, and we're going to _go_. And I swear, Thane, you're going to get yours some day…'

Something flashed in Prometheus Thane's eye - then he barely _twitched_, magic flew from his wand, and Matt was knocked into the stairs with a clattering of metal and a yelp of pain. Eva, stood over Albus, rounded on Thane, and Rose knew she was supposed to do _something _but wasn't sure what -

'_Enough_!' That was Scorpius, and it _sounded_ likehim, not like a decoy breaking identity, even though his wand lashed out for a spell to disarm Eva - then, a split-second later, Thane, too. Leaving only the impostor and Rose with wands, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do with hers.

Thane scowled. 'Malfoy, this is -'

'This is my operation, Thane.' The man who looked like Scorpius gave Rose a quick glance, noted the wand she couldn't bring herself to point at anything, and turned to Albus' fallen form. '_Ennervate_! Now…'

'This is a trick,' said Eva in a low, flat voice, gaze going to Rose. 'This is what Prometheus Thane does. He finds your weak spot, he exploits it -'

'We didn't know you were here,' the impostor cut her off. 'We certainly didn't have any of my hair lying around for a convenient Polyjuice Potion so we could… what? Manipulate you into cooperating? We've been doing perfectly fine with our own people for the last eight months.'

Matt sat up with a stiff groan. He'd dropped his wand, but Rose saw him reach for his sword, even if he was a long way away and had no chance of closing the distance. 'I don't care to theorise what Thane and his goons -'

'Doyle; you decided to make a pass at Rose on San Salvador. I decided to forgive you on account of you getting yourself a little bit killed after exposure to Eridanos on Brillig Island to save us,' the man who looked like Scorpius reeled off with Scorpius' calm, dismissive superiority. He turned to Eva. 'I… have nothing to prove to you. I don't care if you believe me.' Then he looked at Albus, who had sat up with a groan only for them to lock eyes, and there was a long silence cracked by the sound of a leak somewhere dripping onto the metal deck. Scorpius drew a slow breath. 'We were mates since the Hogwarts Express. I once short-sheeted Oakes' bed with linen made of Forever-Folding Thread and Professor Tully had to be called in to get him out. We won our last ever Quidditch match against Hufflepuff four-sixty to two-eighty, and you scored thirteen of those goals and I scored eleven, except I'm sure it's twelve 'cos it bouncing off Bellamy's _arse _and through the hoop should really _not _count as his goal…'

She could see his throat tightening, hear his voice starting to tumble over itself, and it was like she'd fallen into a dream when he turned and his eyes fell upon her. 'And you… and you and I… we stood in a jail cell in Lisbon and I…' But his voice trailed off, the words lost, and for long seconds they could only stare at each other.

_And you said you loved me._

Then Albus was standing, advancing with thudding footsteps, and grabbed the man who looked like Scorpius - to pull him into a bear hug. 'What the hell - _how the hell _-'

'I'm sorry - it's a long story, I'm _sorry_…' Scorpius all but collapsed against Albus, clutching at his jacket with white-knuckled fervour, and _that _was the moment where Rose felt something other than numb shock. Seeing how he turned to Albus, seeing how he returned the embrace, hearing the grief in his voice, she couldn't help but lower her wand.

There was too much of a chance this was real.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

'_Don't screw around with the fuckhead! Trust the fuckhead!'_

'_Heh, yeah. Trust the fuckhead.'_

_- Transmetropolitan, by Warren Ellis_


	11. I Trust Thee to the Death

**I Trust Thee to the Death**

They sat in a tent, wayward friends and lovers and traitors and enemies, and gathered to listen to the tales of a dead man.

Rotterdam had been abandoned in a mass of arguments and uncertainties, but so long as Matt held the file with the _Naglfar__'s _records and Prometheus Thane wasn't surrendering to the justice of the International Magical Convocation, they had travelled together. It was a confused cease fire of Eva, Matt and Thane clutching their wands, of Scorpius Malfoy wearing a stupid, exhausted smile, of Rose looking further from an emotional reaction than ever before.

And Albus feeling like himself for the first time in years.

'I'm not the person to talk about… you know, the complicated bits,' Scorpius was saying, and flashed him a grin as Albus put a cup of tea in front of him. It was the same tent they'd travelled in two and a half years ago, the same mugs, tea made just the same way - milk and two sugars, and for a heartbeat it was like they were hunting Thane again, not sat across a dinner table from him. 'Thanks, mate. But, yeah. Prometheus could explain it better. Maybe we should start with him.'

All eyes turned, with less kindness or confusion, to Prometheus Thane. He'd kept his wand because nobody broached the subject of taking it off him, and it was peculiar to see him in such a humble environment. He looked more worn than when Al had last seen him, his chiselled features pale and gaunt, and his eyes glinted with cold calculation. 'The death of Scorpius was an enormous setback for the Council of Thorns. They - we - lost the Chalice of Emrys and our chance at Lethe in one fell swoop. You all saw how they fell from grace without either. Raskoph stopped trying to harness weapons and turned to harnessing power, wrestling control of the Council's assets off Acosta in South America. And I was given a new assignment.' He looked at Scorpius. 'I had to do what nobody had ever done before: bring a man back from the dead.'

'Resurrection - true resurrection - isn't possible.' Rose didn't lift her eyes from the table, Matt stood at her shoulder like a jealous shadow. 'The Chalice brought back Matt within an hour of his death; that's just a more powerful version of what medical magic can _already _do. And that nearly didn't work. But beyond that? Even the Resurrection Stone couldn't -'

'You can't bring back someone who's died, no,' Thane agreed. 'That's the trick.'

Scorpius focused most of his attention on Albus. Al knew this was likely so he didn't have to look at Rose, but it didn't stop him from giving a wry grin. 'Don't get me wrong. I was _dead_. Passing through the Veil was to enter the Otherworld. But I wasn't _killed_. And I had the Chalice with me.'

Matt's frown deepened from caution to curiosity. 'It's an object of both realms -'

'And it can pass between the realms,' Thane said. 'If appropriately summoned. Which took a long time, a considerable amount of expertise, and no small expense, but we did it. And because Scorpius crossed into the Otherworld with it, his soul was tethered to it, and so he came back _with _it.'

Albus furrowed his brow. 'Your body?'

'As a physical object it existed in the Otherworld, with the Chalice. Which is part of how it was possible,' said Scorpius. 'But this is starting to get into technical stuff, and it's not really the point, and I don't understand all of it anyway.'

'No,' Matt agreed, 'and there are other questions. Like why, if you're Scorpius Malfoy, you're working with _Prometheus Thane_.'

Scorpius looked at Thane, who drew a deep breath and said, 'The Council asked me, as an expert, to recover Scorpius. They didn't care about him, but they cared about the Chalice, and they cared about what was in his body: Lethe. Once they had both, they were prepared to kill him again. Which was the point, eight months ago, I decided to go rogue.'

Eva narrowed her eyes. 'Because you just couldn't stand the thought that they'd hurt him?'

Thane gave her a smile that didn't affect her expression one bit. 'Because the Council of Thorns are led by Joachim Raskoph, who is _mad_. I'd had enough. Scorpius, I, and some of my oldest associates went renegade, and we've been fighting the Council on our own terms ever since. Just like you've been fighting the Council on _your _terms, Eva, in Balthazar Vadimas' company. And, like you, I don't fancy being locked in the deepest, darkest cell the IMC can give me.'

Albus' lips thinned, and he glanced at Scorpius. 'Why'd _you _stay with him?'

Scorpius looked at his tea. 'It's - you understand how I _have _to stop the Council, especially now? They have the Chalice again, they have _Lethe _again, because of me. Here, I could fight. And there wasn't a whole lot of reason to come back. This way, I could do the job. No distractions.'

_I was gone. Rose had moved on. Your father would never have been enough to bring you back__… _Guilty, Albus dropped his gaze, but Scorpius cleared his throat and kept talking.

'We did what we could, when we could,' he said. 'We had word that _something _was coming the night of the Lethe strike, and that's why we were at Hogsmeade. If we'd had any idea how big it was, we'd have warned the IMC.'

'I did suspect an abduction of Selena Rourke was in the works, now she was back in Britain,' said Thane. 'But I didn't realise that was a secondary objective to unleashing hell.'

Rose dragged her eyes up from the table to look at Scorpius' shoulder. 'It was you,' she said in a low, dull voice. 'In the alleyway in Hogsmeade, that was you.'

He grimaced. 'Yeah. But we were too late to stop them from getting away with Selena. Which is why we made the attack on the _Naglfar_, once we located it in Rotterdam. Looks like we all had the same idea; trace where that team portkeyed to.'

'Why?' asked Matt, scowl intact.

Scorpius blinked. 'To _rescue _her -'

'Why did you care?'

Albus saw Scorpius' eyes flash, but it was Thane who spoke, his aristocratic drawl wry. 'It didn't sound especially good to let the daughter of the Chairman of the International Magical Convocation languish in the hands of Joachim Raskoph. Not when we _are _enemies of the Council of Thorns. But Scorpius was right when he said in Rotterdam that this was his operation. She's his friend. She's in trouble. We have the resources to locate her and do this extraction.'

Eva's jaw tightened. 'There are more of you.'

Thane nodded. 'I might conduct a discreet war, but not with a two-man team. There are more of us.'

'The plan on the _Naglfar_,' said Scorpius,_'_was to stage an incursion, block off possible reinforcements, and arrive as _fake _reinforcements; hence the masks and robes. We had to step it up when your strike happened. But once we had the location, yes, we were going to rendezvous with the rest of the guys and probably not break into wherever Raskoph's holding Selena just the two of us.'

'I'm _assuming_,' said Thane, leaning back in his chair, 'that the four of you were here to rescue Selena Rourke. Or, well, the three of you.' His gaze landed on Eva. 'I don't know why you do anything anymore.'

'Certainly not because you tell me to,' came Eva's flat, taut voice, and Albus could see the tension in her shoulders, that mixture of control, fear and anger he could recognise even after all this time.

'Yes, you're positively your own master these days,' Thane drawled, then glanced at Albus. 'Do you come when he whistles, or does he have to at least call your name?'

Then Eva was on her feet, fists clenched, eyes wide. 'This is ridiculous,' she snapped, and looked to Albus and Matt. 'He's a killer, he's a monster -'

'As much as you are,' said Scorpius calmly.

Pity crept into her gaze. 'Oh, you poor fool - if you are who you say you are, you've just let him crawl in your head and play hero, but that's what he _does _-'

Matt planted his hands on the table, shoulders squared. 'I don't care. I _do not care _about this. Who trusts whom, why he's back, the history of Thane and Saida - none of this is bringing us closer to our objective: getting Selena back.'

Albus drew a slow breath. 'He's right. There are a hell of a lot of questions and issues, but that's our mission, and we have to look to her first.'

'I agree,' said Scorpius. 'So I suggest we combine forces. You have the records from the _Naglfar_, you can see where the team from Hogsmeade jumped with her on the night of the attack. Prometheus and I - and it'll be just us, no need to bring in the rest of the team - have expertise and experience of the Council of Thorns' operations; we know how to fight them.' Thane looked pained at what appeared to be Scorpius' unilateral decision, but he didn't protest.

Matt looked troubled, but it was Rose who answered, Rose who peered at Thane through a veil of hair so thick it could have been another gateway to the Otherworld. 'Or we Stun them both, call the IMC, and hand over them and Selena's location.'

'You are assuming, Miss Weasley, that I'm of any mind to come quietly,' said Thane, his hand still firm on his wand. 'If you strike for me, we will fight back, we will take those files, and we will go. And you will have _no _leads on Miss Rourke's location. You might beat us, but is that a risk you'd have to take. I assure you, I'm no more thrilled about this cooperation than you are -'

'We can't stand on the outside forever, Prometheus,' said Scorpius. 'I wasn't planning on coming out any time soon, but our hand's been forced.'

Albus stood, and the next breath he drew came with a wave of warmth and calm that was like coming home. 'Then let's look in the file, and see where Selena is. The longer we wait, the more likely it is the Council will realise we know, and they might move her.'

Matt hesitated, then he put the folder on the table and opened it. 'This is raw data,' he said. 'The Council wasn't in the habit of keeping meticulous records of all their comings-and-goings, so this is just the output from the rituals.'

Rose reached for the papers, expressionless. 'Then I'll be the person to decipher it, won't I.' Once, she might have been wry. Now there was nothing in her as she rifled through the pages, eyes roaming over the lines of numbers and words which Albus knew included locations but which was otherwise nonsense to him.

As she read, he looked at Scorpius, whose gaze had fallen on her now her head was bowed. 'What do you do when this is over?'

Scorpius faltered as he met his gaze. 'I don't know, mate. Do you go back into hiding once you come out of it?'

Albus' expression twisted. 'I don't know.'

'The Brocéliande Forest,' Rose said abruptly, and looked up. 'Near to somewhere called Saint Annard.'

Reactions came from both Matt and Thane. The latter sucked on his teeth, while Matt swore and said, 'Raskoph, you sick bastard.'

'Explain,' said Albus.

'Saint Annard was an all-magical French village until a hundred years ago,' said Matt. 'Then Raskoph and the Thule Society happened to it, when France was under German occupation in the Grindelwald Wars.'

'The witches and wizards were accused of harbouring Magical Alliance agents, and were ordered to give them up. When they didn't - they didn't actually have any - the entire village was wiped out,' said Thane. 'It's been a ghost town ever since. Nobody can say Raskoph doesn't have a sense for the dramatics.' He paused, and looked around. 'And the war crimes. I simply mean it's "dramatic" under these circumstances.'

Scorpius glanced to him. 'A site of a massacre, and it's where Raskoph's had a prized prisoner taken. This can't be a random location. This has to be important to him.'

'You think it's where Raskoph himself is hiding out?' said Albus.

'He moves around a lot,' said Scorpius. 'If he's there, he won't be there for long. But he's got something he can't just leave lying around, which is at its safest and most stable if it's somewhere the barriers between the realms are weaker: the Chalice of Emrys.'

'Then we have our heading,' said Matt, straightening. 'We get the maps, plan some apparitions to Brocéliande, and we'll be there by dawn -'

'No,' Albus found himself saying. 'We're not moving right away.'

Matt's jaw set. 'The longer we wait, the likelier they'll move her -'

'Except we broke their transportation hub for Europe, and they have no idea what we know,' said Albus. 'Moving Selena is _more _likely to get them noticed, under the circumstances. More pressingly, we are worn and tired and in no condition to stage a strike on one of Raskoph's most valued bases. We need a night's sleep, at the very least.'

'I agree with Potter,' said Thane. 'We need to be at our best if we're going to succeed. None of you look at your best.'

'I could say the same to you,' sneered Matt. 'Scrapping with teenagers took it out of you?'

'Or do you want a few hours so you can drop your associates a line and then we wake up with wands in our faces?' said Eva.

Scorpius grimaced. 'We're not going to do that.'

'You might not,' said Matt. 'I'm surprised you trust _him _-'

'This isn't up for debate,' Albus cut them off. 'We need rest. And if we're going to work together, we have to trust that we do, at least, have aligned goals for now. Most of you look dead on your feet. Get some bloody sleep. _I _will go check the wards, make sure communications and apparition are blocked off. Does anyone have a problem with that?' Thane looked at Scorpius, who shook his head, and none of the others said anything. With no desire to belabour this point, he turned to leave the tent, ducking out from the flap and into the chilly air of north-eastern France at night.

There had been a certain irony to using the Council of Thorns' own ritual to let them cross international borders. But Thane had assured them that it would work - and that his parting charm would completely unravel the _Naglfar_'s magics, taking time to be rebuilt if it was even possible. Albus suspected Thane had come to the _Naglfar _with the intention of destroying the ship, along with everyone on board, but this suggestion had not been made in their shaky alliance. Nevertheless, he remembered the slain Thornweavers he and Rose had found. This wasn't a bloodless operation.

The wards were intact, but he pumped more power into them anyway, because it gave him an excuse to be out of the tent for a little longer. The sky was overcast, and the plain field they'd hopped to cast in such absolute darkness that he couldn't see any sign of life out here, and certainly no indication anything was going to challenge their protections. But old habits died hard, so when he heard a crunch of a footstep behind him, he'd whirled around, wand in hand, before he knew what he was doing.

Eva had her own wand half-raised before she stopped herself. 'You're jumpy.'

'Do I have any reason to not be?' Only slowly did he drop his wand.

'No. Keep up that paranoia.' She looked up, dim light from the tent spilling across her face to cast the scar along her jaw into darker shadow. 'It might keep us alive.'

'Does that mean I should be wary of you, too?'

'If it keeps you cautious.' Eva thinned her lips as she slipped her wand away, and glanced to the tent before she pressed on. 'You truly believe that's Scorpius?'

He flinched. 'I do. Maybe I'm a fool, but he knows so much, it looks like him, sounds like him, _walks _like him. Why would Prometheus Thane have planned this to infiltrate us? Or have a fake Scorpius up his sleeve _just in case _he ran into us? If we were at home, in a secure environment, I might press this more, but I can't afford doubt right now.' Albus rolled a shoulder. You can call me an idiot -'

'I don't think you're an idiot for believing. Prometheus - Thane - he is manipulative and he is cunning, but he's also efficient. He'll use theatrics if it serves a purpose, but this would be… melodramatic for him.'

'So he's the one you think I should be wary of? I suppose you'd know him best.' It was impossible to keep a sneer from his voice, even though he knew it wasn't helpful.

She didn't react to that. 'Then trust me when I say that Prometheus Thane is _very _adept at earning and manipulating loyalties. Maybe that is the real Scorpius. Maybe he's not been reprogrammed with Legilimency or mind-altering potions. But he's still chosen to work with Thane for the last _eight months_, fighting the Council, _assassinating _people.'

'If that's Scorpius, if there's even the _slightest _chance that's Scorpius, then I'm not turning on him, I'm not turning _away _from him,' said Albus, with a sudden heat in his chest he hadn't expected. 'And not for _you _-'

She flinched. 'I am telling you to be _careful_, Albus, for the sake of this mission, Selena - for Rose, for Matt, for _yourself_. He's not telling us everything.'

'I suppose you would recognise a liar.'

'I would. I know obfuscation when I see it. Why he's with Thane, why he stayed away? Maybe he just wanted to fight the Council without dealing with personal problems, but that's doesn't sound like the whole story. I think he's hiding something. And if he's not lying, then I worry he's not dancing to his own tune. For whatever reason, Scorpius _trusts _Prometheus, and he _shouldn__'t_. He might be your friend, he might care for you, but there is a _very _real risk that he has become Prometheus' play-thing, and you _cannot _assume that you have his loyalty like you used to.'

'You're right,' said Albus. 'I don't assume I have people's loyalty any more. You taught me a _very _good lesson.'

That made her stop short, the first flash of true frustrationentering her eyes. 'You want to talk about lessons on loyalty? Prometheus Thane has a talent for inspiring people to follow him to the ends of the Earth. It's a very rare talent. I've only met one person better.' She met his gaze, undaunted and without shame for once, and before he could answer, she pressed on. 'Except that you didn't do it through lying or manipulating, and that's why you're better. Or, _were _better. I'm not sure what you are any more.'

'Neither am I,' said Albus. 'But whatever I am, _you _made me.'

'Then we made each other, Albus, but this is still not the point. I'm not here to reminisce. I said I'd help you get Selena, and I will. Consider this my help: making sure you don't get stabbed in the back by Prometheus Thane, _or _by whatever loyalty he's inspired in Scorpius Malfoy. If that's even who it is. Lots of people can know _Quidditch _scores.'

Then a new voice rolled across the darkness, and the sound as still enough to make Albus' heart close into a fist. 'Aw, c'mon, how many people knew about short-sheeting Oakes' bed?' said Scorpius, emerging from the gloom between them and the tent. 'She's still a smart girl, Al. You should listen to her.'

Albus looked at Scorpius - that rumpled blond hair, longer than he remembered but still artfully unruly, like he'd spent hours perfecting how little attention he gave it. That straight nose, the nonchalant manner with which he walked, hands shoved into pockets, the lopsided grin that reached his blue-grey eyes. It was him, every inch of him, and while Albus couldn't pretend he understood, he knew the mere sight of his friend was breaking up the chunks of stone embedded in his heart and guts.

'I could answer more questions, if you wanted,' said Scorpius. 'But I don't know if that's going to make much of a difference.'

Albus' expression creased, but Eva took a step back, expression closing into her emotionless mask. 'I think I've said all I can.'

'Good night, Saida,' said Scorpius amiably as she turned and headed for the tent, and he waited until she was gone before looking to Albus and continuing. 'I wouldn't be too hard on her, mate. And I say this as a guy who threatened to kill her last time we met.' His gaze went wry, but the two fell into silence, staring into the horizon of black sky against black land. 'I don't - I've thought about what I'd say for a long time.'

'I bet I've thought about it longer.' Albus felt his throat tightening up, and he frowned into the night, voice coming out more rumbling than he liked. 'If you've only been… back, for eight months.'

'Yeah, I - I don't mean…' Scorpius sighed. 'I wanted to come back. These past few months, I mean. I really did, I just - I thought it would complicate things.'

'And working with _Prometheus Thane _is simple?'

'In a way. Find the bad guys. Fight the bad guys. Sometimes, yes, kill the bad guys.'

'Except he _is _one of the bad guys, Scorp -'

'And _she _isn't?' Scorpius pointed at the tent, incredulous. 'But you brought her on board to find Selena.'

'That was Matt's call!'

'You two seemed like you were getting pretty honest with each other here! Not exactly a professional-only relationship.'

Albus drew a deep breath that quavered more than he'd have liked. 'I believe she'll help us find Selena. I believe she has no love for the Council. Truth be told, I believe the same of Prometheus Thane. That's all I need out of those two. But you - I don't -' Words he would have once spoken without thought now sounded presumptuous, or even dangerous, like they opened up whole new chasms he wasn't ready to stare into, and he glared at a spot in the darkness above Scorpius' head. 'You're back, and it's been so long, and I worry what he's… done.'

'Listen to me.' Scorpius stepped in, hand coming up to grab a fistful of Albus' jacket, but the emotion in his voice was fervour, not anger. 'I am not Prometheus Thane's man. This is all one _bloody _long story, and some of it I don't know how to explain, and some of it I _can__'t _explain, and right now _really _isn't the time. I wanted to come back. I couldn't. He didn't stop me, I chose this, I just… didn't have a choice, if you know what I mean. We're allies of convenience, and I _do _owe him, but he's not - and you're -' His expression crumpled, the determination fluttering from his voice, and their eyes met. 'It's me, Al. And I don't just mean it's not a trick, I mean I'm still _me._'

'I know,' said Albus, the words bursting out unbidden. 'I know it is, I knew on that _bloody _freighter, I _knew _it was you…'

Scorpius grinned, _really _grinned, his eyes brightening with that twinkle which had always made him look younger, before bashfully letting go. 'You've no idea how damn good it is to hear you say that. You've no idea how damn good it is to _see _you.'

Albus bit his lip and clapped him on the shoulder, keeping his hand there. 'I reckon,' he said, 'I actually do.'

* * *

><p>Matt was still stood at the dining table, the lights dim but enough that he could read the maps and papers, when Eva ducked back inside. 'Rose has turned in,' he said, not looking up, 'so I'd ask you to be quiet when you go to bed. She needs her rest.'<p>

Eva glanced at the bunkroom door and she sighed. 'I'll sleep on the couch. You go be with her.'

He opened his mouth to argue, then decided he really didn't want to share a room with the resurrected Scorpius Malfoy and Prometheus Thane. He frowned at the map. 'Thanks.' She didn't answer, heading for the back room, and with a sigh he shut the folder and looked over at her. 'Do you really think it's him?'

'You knew him better than I did.' But she paused, her back to him as she thought. 'A trick like this isn't Thane's style. He likes to paint himself as a good guy. This would just be sick. Then again, if he hasn't changed these past two years, he's the only one.'

'Right.' Matt frowned at the folder, then straightened. 'I'm going to bed.' She didn't answer, which suited him fine as exchanging pleasantries with Eva Saida wouldn't have felt trite so much as psychotic. He ducked into the bunkroom, keeping his footsteps light, only to find the candles still alight and Rose most certainly not asleep. She was a bundled shape at the foot of the bottom bunk, knees drawn up under her chin, still fully dressed. The candlelight played fire in her hair but darkness in her eyes as she looked up at him, flinching as badly as she might if he'd come in swinging his sword, and he stopped.

'Hey. You're - you're not okay.' Astute observation out of the way, he hurried to kneel at the foot of the bed, hands on the sheets. This pattern was well-rehearsed from when he'd find her in the dorms at Hogwarts on a bad day, coming to give comfort but knowing it was best to keep his distance until _she _reached for _him_. That hadn't been needed in over a year now.

Her eyes fixed on him, dark and cavernous, but boring right through him. 'It can't be him. He's gone, it _can__'t _be, how can it be?'

'I don't know. He knows things, certainly, and Al seems to believe him.'

'He fell, I _saw him fall_…'

'Yeah. But it's a big world, Rose, and I don't…' Matt extended his hand to put it next to hers, the old code of offering affection, the one she always took.

Instead, she shied back, and whispered, 'I'm not going to leave you for him.'

_Oh, fucking hell. _Matt blinked. 'I didn't think -'

Now she grabbed his hand and hauled herself to the edge of the bed. 'I don't care what John says, I don't care what Albus says, I _need _you, you can't go. I can't _do _this without you -'

'Hey.' He lifted his other hand to her cheek, breath catching. 'I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this. We'll get Selena back, we'll get to the bottom of everything, and we'll be okay. You hear me?'

She was shaking under his touch, but nodded, fervent - and then she was pulling him to her, and he knew this fire, he knew this desperation. He'd seen it in her darkest moments of grief, but never before had she poured it into a kiss, because he'd been so sure, so _sure _she was moving on before anything happened with them. But now he could taste the grief and anguish on her lips, strong enough to make him falter.

'Matt, please.' Her plea was a whisper against his mouth, crumpled and desperate. 'Please, I want you, I _need _you…'

_If she can__'t tell you she loves you, now of all times, when _will _she? _The thought sliced through the haze of habit and instinct which howled at him to pull her closer, and it brought with it a cold, cruel clarity to fill the gaps. He pulled away. 'We don't - we should rest,' Matt said, and felt a coward. 'We make a move tomorrow, we need to be at our best. Or we're no good to Selena.' _Selena. You _have _to get Selena back. The rest of the world can wait. _'And you need to sleep.'

Rose drew a shaking breath, like she was half-drowning still, but she did slide back. He saw colour rise to her cheeks, and couldn't meet her gaze. 'You think I can sleep right now?' There was a wry stab in her voice, but she at least sounded a bit more like herself.

'No,' he conceded. 'If you want, I'll charm you.'

She looked away, eyelashes fluttering before she nodded. He'd never used a Sleeping Charm on her before, because that sounded like a great way to start down a slippery slope when she'd been in the fits of her grief. Normally, he would have refused to use it on someone in the field, but he preferred the possible risk of her being drowsy in the morning - which he could still use spells to counter - than definitely strung out and exhausted in battle.

But he was, himself, not sleepy any more. He waited until she was still under the blankets, her breathing deep and peaceful, before he stood and stalked out of the bunkroom. Eva was a silent bundle on the sofa by now, and he could still hear the rumble of voices from outside. That was where he went, fists clenched, jaw tight, into the darkness and towards the tall silhouettes of Albus Potter and the man who claimed to be Scorpius Malfoy.

Al saw him first, and his brow knotted slightly. 'Hey, Matt -'

Matt ignored him, grabbed Scorpius' collar, and kicked him in the back of the knee. There was a yelp, but down Scorpius was forced, and Matt shoved his wand in the other man's neck. 'Oh, _good_, you're not some master fighter -'

Scorpius gave a hiss of pain. 'You're attacking a man from behind and _bragging _about it?'

'Matt!' Albus' heavy hand fell on his shoulder, voice rumbling with surprise and warning.

'Don't worry, Al.' Matt didn't let go of Scorpius, kept his wand firm at his neck. 'I'm not going to hurt him unless he gives me a good reason. So if you're picking this guy, who could be an impostor, over me, who's _definitely _on your fucking side, you need to take a serious goddamn look at your life and choices.' He felt Al's hand falter, and shrugged it off.

'So,' said Scorpius between gritted teeth. 'You've become more _charming _in all this time -'

'If you're some trick,' hissed Matt over him, 'if you're some agent of Thane's here to manipulate us, I _strongly _suggest you admit now. It'll go better for you. Because if you're fucking with us, if you're lying, if you have _done this to her _because of some greater scheme, then I am going to boil that face off you, I _swear _to all the Gods.'

Albus took a step back, stunned, but Matt could see Scorpius' lips twisting into that accusing smile of his. 'Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Brave Matthias finds the scheme, keeps the girl -'

'You think I'm kidding?' Matt snarled, ramming the wand into a soft spot in his neck. 'You think this a _fucking _joke?'

Scorpius growled with pain, twisting his head back to look him in the eye. 'I think I've lived this too long to not be able to laugh at it. And I think you're not angry about the idea I'm a trick so much as you're terrified by the idea I'm _not_. So, bad news, Doyle. Be afraid. I'm me.'

'Yeah, you _said_, real convincing -'

'Does Rose still have those freckles across her shoulders if she's been out in the sun? That mole on her right shoulder-blade? Does she still do that flicking thing with her tongue when -'

His ribcage tightened enough to stop his breathing, stop his heart, turn him into a solid block of anger as he planted his foot in Scorpius' back and kicked him face-first into the dirt. 'You son of a bitch…'

Albus stepped between them, hands raised, jaw tight. 'Enough. This isn't helping _anything_.'

Matt's eyes flashed, but he stepped back, lowering his wand. 'You're right. Guess it is him. Guess he's still a _prick_.'

'Guess you're still a prickless wonder,' Scorpius muttered, clambering to his feet.

Matt stabbed a finger at him. 'I stand by what I said. Mess with Rose, and I _will _make you pay,' he said, then turned on his heel and stalked back to the darkness of the tent. _Perhaps _some_ things couldn__'t wait until we got Selena back. _The thought was treacherous, accusing, and he couldn't make it shut up. Without thinking, he grabbed the file off the dining table before returning to the bunkroom where Rose still slept, oblivious to the world, magic bringing her a peace he could not.

He stared at her, and knew he should join her. Curled up on the bunk, even in these hard times, was a place where he could hide from his woes, will back the trials and tribulations before him. But the folder hung heavy in his hand, and with a groan he clambered onto the top bunk, sparked up a _Lumos _with his wand, and started reading. He would be a hypocrite not to sleep, to spend the night studying all the information they had on the Council of Thorns, on the Brocéliande Forest, on Saint Annard. But he knew he'd be a failure if he didn't spend every minute between now and their operation making ready for it. Because if they didn't get Selena back, then all of this was _truly _for nothing.

And if they didn't get Selena back, he didn't know how he'd live with himself.

* * *

><p>She knew the darkness, because she saw it night after night. But since she'd woken, darkness had been her morning and her noon, a darkness broken only by the occasional footsteps of her captors. A metal door scraped open, food shoved in. The diatribes of a madman, just the once, because all men like that had to reaffirm their control, their <em>victory<em>, even if she was just a tool in someone else's war.

But otherwise there was the darkness. And the cold that came more from cool stone underground, the chill that seeped into her bones and her soul and she knew so well, so very well, because with it came the whispers.

Ages gone by. Aches that were by now like scars carved inside her, their marks eternal; these days, they were part of her. Pains that were still recent and raw and like flesh scraped on bone.

And then the new. The torments she thought were just in her head. Only here, in this darkness, in this place, they were as much her prison as the cold stone walls or the hard metal door or the madmen that had abducted her in the first place. And not a single one of her captors cared when she screamed, but she didn't do it to try to make them stop, because when had screaming ever made anything stop?

Selena Rourke screamed anyway, because that was all she could do in the darkness.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The Broc__éliande Forest is a place of true legend in French mythology, said to have played a major role in several Arthurian legends. _

_The __'Annard' in Saint Annard is derived from Annard Noz, which is one name for a Breton myth derived from the Celtic traditions of triple goddesses. Les Lavandières, as they are more commonly called, are three old washerwomen who wash the graveclothes of those about to die._


	12. Man Was Less and Less

**Man Was Less and Less**

'I don't want to worry people,' said Scorpius as they advanced through the shrouded woods of the Brocéliande Forest, 'but I think we're being followed.'

Matt gritted his teeth. 'What makes you say that?'

'Because there's an Inferius behind us.'

Between the scant maps of the area and deep concentration, Rose had mass apparated them a way into the woodlands, but they still needed to get to Saint Annard by foot. If it really was a Council stronghold, there would be wardings and protections all over the ruined town, and nobody fancied getting spliced as part of their rescue plan. So they'd arrived a good distance away, all the better to check their advance and conduct recon before charging into danger.

Except it seemed danger was closer than they'd anticipated.

Sunlight streamed through the trees, the leaves turning to gold and drifting to cover the path. So when Matt glanced over his shoulder he could see the bone-white, skulking figure some fifty metres behind them at once. On the one hand, the Lethe-created Inferi were not discreet creatures. On the other, who knew how long it had been following them?

'Shit,' he said.

'Yes,' Scorpius agreed. 'And it'll stalk us until it can strike, and run if we try to take it down now. Just like Brillig.'

Matt glanced at Rose and saw her lips thin. 'Where there's one,' she said, voice low and flat, 'there's always more. Is this a perimeter defence?'

'Probably,' said Thane. 'And possibly storage. The Council deployed scores of Inferi across the world simultaneously. We know where they got their Hogsmeade corpses, but it was less obvious elsewhere. They might have been gatheringan army.'

'And making these woods their bloody barracks?' said Matt.

'Can you think of a better place?'

'Enough,' said Albus. 'We need to plan, and move.'

'There's no plan _to _make,' said Eva. 'Intercepting it will take time and string us out. We need to press on, and now, and fast, because they're probably stalking us until they can gather their numbers and strike as one. We need to make as much progress as possible in that time.' She turned on her heel and picked up the pace, leading them tromping through the woodlands which would have been picturesque, shattered gold in autumn, were it not for the ghost of death behind them.

'And _then _what do we do?' said Rose.

'Simple,' said Albus. 'We fight, we run, and we try to not die.'

'Al, keep the cloak to hand,' said Matt, keeping his hand on the hilt of the sword as they advanced. 'If it goes wrong, you're going to have to wear it and slip away, make for Saint Annard while we keep them occupied.'

'And, what, stage the break-out of Selena myself?'

'Then give _me _the cloak and -'

The matter was made abruptly easier by three Inferi lunging from the woodlands at their flanks. Eva didn't break pace to spin and send a shimmering blade of magic energy scything through the air. It thudded into the Inferius' throat and knocked it back, head at an angle and the creature downed at once.

'Go!' bellowed Albus, turning and pointing his wand at a tree behind them. There was a thunderous cracking as the bark splintered, and with the sound of shattering thunders it fell, crashing through branches and falling leaves and sending up a deluge of dirt and echoes on impact. Anything it didn't take out, it would at least slow down. The last was sent flying by a blast from Thane, but it didn't stay down, and then there were more pinpricks of deadly white light in the shadows.

Rose was by Matt's side before he could blink, hand at his elbow. 'Run,' she hissed, and set off at a pace where she was almost dragging him through the trees, the northwards course they'd been holding so far.

'I don't need to be told twice,' he said, breathing ragged through surprise and shock, and his hand remained on the sword-hilt.

Rose smacked it away. 'Don't you dare. Don't you _dare _-'

'What -'

He stumbled, but it wasn't just Rose who kept him upright, but _Eva_, on his other flank, grabbing his shoulder. 'She means everyone else here is immune, and I'm not repeating Brillig.'

Matt looked at her, shocked, only then remembering the two of them fighting their way across the island. It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that she _had _been perfectly safe from infection - though not disembowelment and horrid death - when they'd staged that rescue. And she sounded sincere and she sounded determined, and in the last two years he'd never thought he'd have Eva Saida looking after his wellbeing. Especially not out of guilt.

'We can't be far!' Rose called to the others as they ran, jumping over patches of undergrowth, scrambling over fallen logs, weaving in between the trees.

'Then what?' snapped Albus, hurling magic behind him as they came in their wake, a swarm of white shapes in the woodlands. 'We just run into Saint Annard with this lot on our heels?'

'There'll be perimeter guards,' huffed Thane, vaulting over a tumbled tree-trunk. 'Take them down, and get us some distance from this lot. I know what I'm doing.'

They couldn't keep it up for long, but they were all of them ready for this, fit, agile, and accustomed to running for their lives. Any shame Matt felt in keeping flanked by Eva and Rose faded for a tight focus on keeping his footing, keeping up the pace, and the knowledge of what came ahead.

_Save being manly for later. For now, get the job done. Get her back._

The trees became patchier almost before he realised it. He lunged over the overgrown rubble of what had once been a wall, and then ahead of them weren't more thick trunks, but sandy ruins.

_Saint Annard_.

The Inferi remained on their heels, tens of metres behind and perhaps twenty of them, but now they were moving into sandy old roads, crumbled remains of pale stone buildings a hundred years old, dust kicking up to paint everything in a hazy light.

'Intruders!' A shadow loomed ahead as they ploughed down the road, and Matt put his head down, shoulder out, and barged flat into the Thornweaver whose alert was cut short at the tackle.

Down they both went, and Matt was faintly aware of another Council guard being taken down by Albus and Scorpius with the _zap _of magic. Without thinking, Matt had his wand in the other man's gut, a wordless Stun leaving him motionless, and he rolled back onto his feet. Rose and Eva had the road ahead covered, gazes alert, but there were no more words from deeper into the village, just the thudding footsteps from behind.

'We've got to keep moving,' said Rose.

'No!' Thane bent over the Thornweaver at Albus' feet, reaching for the man's hand. 'We can stop this, we can -' With a noise of triumph he lifted something that gleamed in the hazy light, a ring which he slipped on his finger. 'Slow them down, give me just a _moment_…'

'Are you _kidding_ -'

The Inferi were like racing ghosts in the rising dust, but Scorpius didn't run, and so neither did Albus. As the two turned to face the oncoming horde, Eva and Rose exchanged long-suffering looks and moved in front of Matt, spells hurled outward. Matt gritted his teeth and stood behind them. All their focused fire and volleys could bring down the first half-dozen Inferi charging while Thane tapped his wand against the ring and muttered incantations to himself.

'Done!' he barked after a moment. 'Step back! Away!' He lifted his hand, ring glinting through the dusty veil, and the next rank of Inferi that loped at them slowed, stumbled, and slumped to a halt.

Matt suppressed a shudder as he watched them. A heartbeat ago they'd been like beasts lunging with primal killer instincts, but now they stood motionless as statues he knew could be deadly. 'What the hell -'

'This is what Lethe _does_, Mister Doyle,' said Thane. 'Bends them to the will of the Council, makes them an _army_. I helped _develop _this; do you honestly think I didn't also learn how to control them, too?'

'They've changed things,' said Scorpius, his wand not leaving the motionless ranks of corpses. 'Tried to block us out from influencing them, and we haven't had a chance to test if we could do it until now.'

'And I didn't want to let them _know _we could before now,' said Thane. 'But the moment they try to give this lot new instructions - I _assure _you this swarm in the woodlands will not all be controlled by this one, sorry perimeter guard - then it's going to get messy and at least some of them will turn on us. Conflicting orders will turn this into chaos.'

'So we need a plan,' said Albus.

'Also,' said Scorpius, 'we need the Chalice. If it's here, we _can__'t _pass up this opportunity to snatch it.'

'Rose,' said Matt in a firm voice. 'Legilimens one of these two. Find Selena - and if he knows anything about the Chalice, so much the better.'

'On it,' she said, and bent over one of the fallen Thornweavers.

Thane clicked his tongue. 'Very good, but _do _be quick, I don't like how they look at me.'

'Then maybe you shouldn't have helped develop the _fucking _illness,' said Matt, and turned to them all. 'Here's how it's going to go down. If we find the Chalice location, then Al, Scorpius, and Eva are going after it.'

Thane opened his mouth. 'I should -'

'I'm splitting you two up,' Matt pronounced. 'So you don't get the Chalice _or _Selena and then run off with either. And I bet _you _care more about the Chalice, and I trust Albus to stop Scorpius from absconding with it, and Eva's a strong extra wand-arm for them. Which makes _you _a strong extra wand-arm for Rose and I going after Selena.'

Scorpius gave a low whistle. 'Blimey,' he said. 'It's almost like you've thought this through. And don't trust us.' He sounded amused and approving, not bitter.

'I don't fucking care,' said Matt. 'We're getting this done, and we're getting _her_.'

Rose straightened. 'She's in the town hall, west side of town. Chalice is north. I bet none of you will miss that magical signature.'

Thane nodded, lips thin. 'Then what do I do with this merry band? I was thinking of telling them to go on a rampage against all Thornweavers they find. It'll cause chaos, not least because the Council will have to fight to get them back under control.'

Albus frowned at that. 'We're going to _use _them -'

'Then that's a plan,' said Matt. 'And I don't give a damn if you like it or dislike it. Get to work.'

* * *

><p>There couldn't have been more than a dozen or so Thornweavers in Saint Annard, and it became quickly apparent that if there <em>was <em>anything to the north, they were not physically guarding it. Eva downed one Thornweaver before Scorpius or Albus even saw them, and then it was Al's turn to Stun a would-be ambusher hidden amongst rubble of a shattered home, but that was the last living soul they saw.

Plenty of Saint Annard remained. It had once been a typical French village, the walls of pale brown stone, some even older with faded timberwork. Broken pale shutters hung off hinges, ancient metal signs lay twisted in the remains of the road, and any building which still had a roof lacked at least one wall. Behind them, they could hear the sounds of the Inferi as they sought out any remaining Thornweavers, the crash of combat and their inhuman hissing alongside screams of pain, but they had not come north. It seemed there were no targets there.

A shiver ran up Albus' spine as he checked the corners, the few gaping windows that remained amongst the ruins. _Or, perhaps, even they won__'t come this far_.

'Did you hear that?' said Scorpius, stopping short in the middle of the road.

Eva grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the cover of a nearby wall. 'No, but I'd like us to live long enough to see what caused it.'

'I'm not going to get sniped,' he said, indignant. 'There's nothing here. Well. Nothing living.'

'If you're about to tell me that coming back from the dead gave you strange mystic-sensing powers -'

'No,' Albus interrupted. 'There's something here. I can feel it, too.'

She looked between them, frowning. 'That's called your survival instincts telling you that you might get your heads blown off at any moment.'

'Yeah,' said Scorpius, sweeping his wand up and down the street. 'But by _what_?'

'And if the Chalice is here, why isn't it guarded?' said Albus.

Scorpius shook his head, and cautiously advanced down the road, the paving patchy and broken. 'That doesn't wholly surprise me,' he said. 'If the Chalice isn't kept somewhere which is _really _prepared for it, like the tomb in the Parisian Catacombs, it can start to… _warp _things. That's why it's best keeping it somewhere close to the dead. If a place is already disturbed, it breaks down fewer walls. But it does… feed them.'

'That's a great choice of words,' said Eva in a flat voice, checking their rear as they followed.

'What do you mean, feed?'

'I mean,' said Scorpius, and pointed his wand down the road ahead, where the dust was so thick as to almost be a fog, 'if there is already the chance of ghosts, then that chance will become a _guarantee_.' Which was when Albus heard the weeping.

Eva gave a long-suffering sigh. 'I didn't have to put up with this shit with Baz.'

It wasn't sobbing, it was wailing, and then another voice joined it, and another; then there was the sound of magic fizzing in the air, and Albus jerked his wand up in a low guard until it cut the wailing short and he realised what it was. 'Hells,' he breathed. 'This is the massacre.'

When they rounded the corner, before them stood the barn, and the fate of Saint Annard. Wide double-doors were open, hanging off their hinges, and in the yard and inside the shadowed building were the shimmering shapes. Some were more distinct than others. Those inside the barn - some standing, some kneeling, some lying on the ground and writhing in agony, probably fifty in total - were the translucent, white shapes Albus recognised as fully-formed ghosts. Those outside were different. The dust formed into humanoid shapes, like figures formed in the tumbling sand of an hourglass. There was a dozen of them, though at the outskirts of the courtyard were wispy shapes, the impression of more beyond this immediate moment. While the ghosts wore simple robes Albus would guess were a century old in fashion, the dust-figures wore robes which were more like coats, with square corners and identical lines of a uniform pattern.

'Thule Society soldiers,' murmured Scorpius next to him.

Eva's breath caught as she looked at one dust-figure, not lined up with the rest but stood to the side, taller, more imperious. 'Raskoph.'

Albus stopped himself from jumping when he realised what she meant; that they _hadn__'t _been intercepted by Thornweaver forces, that they were trapped in a moment of death and despair, and the architect of this moment had been Joachim Raskoph a hundred years ago.

He was talking in accented French, and Albus and Scorpius glanced at Eva, whose brow furrowed deeper and deeper as she listened, until she translated. 'He's ordering his men to shoot them in the legs so they can't run, so they'll die slower,' she said, voice grating, and as they watched, the lined Thule soldiers did as directed, with vicious slicing charms that felled the ghosts of the villagers of Saint Annard. 'And now he's - you sick bastard…'

'The Chalice _must _be here,' murmured Scorpius. 'These are the ghosts of the people Raskoph killed a hundred years ago, but the Chalice's magic is so powerful it's not just making them re-live their deaths, it's making facsimiles of their killers, too, it's bringing back the whole _moment _of death. Not just the dead.' His expression had gone very still, tight and controlled like Albus had rarely seen.

'They're accused of harbouring agents of the Magical Alliance,' Eva continued as Raskoph spoke on. 'He says the women and children are in the church, that his men are searching the village. That the villagers must give up those agents. If they don't, the men here will die first. And if those agents are still not found, or surrendered, then the women and children will be killed, too.'

One ghost of the villagers threw himself down on his knees, speaking in choking, anguished words Albus didn't need to speak French to understand. He knew a plea for mercy when he heard one.

There was a ferocious _crack _as the memory of Raskoph flicked his wand, and the ghost screamed as his legs were broken. The Colonel's shape just nodded at his men, spoke in German, and turned away.

'Jesus fucking Christ, I wish we'd killed that bastard in Panama,' Scorpius hissed as the soldiers advanced, downing more of the ghosts but not yet slaying them, and they dragged them into the shadows of the barns. More pleas and begging could be heard, and despite the screams of pain, it seemed nobody was being killed yet. Raskoph's shape outside became more indistinct, and Albus guessed that the full scene of despair and death was now contained inside the barn, with the memories of the dead.

'You think this is bad,' murmured Eva, 'remember that to unleash Lethe, they have wiped out entire villages to convert into Inferi. Not to mention the body-count from the following attacks. This is insane, and evil, and things like this are _still happening_.'

A low noise of pain escaped Scorpius' lips, and Albus couldn't tell if this was just horror at the sight or something else, something only a man who'd been to the realm of death and back could see of this anguish. But then he couldn't think about _that _any more, because he heard the wailing of the villagers hit a whole new pitch at the sound of crackling flames.

'He had their legs broken and blasted,' Albus murmured, mouth dry, 'had them dragged into the barn, then had the barn burnt. Fucking hell.'

Scorpius straightened with a jerk, expression set. 'These aren't even proper ghosts. Proper ghosts don't just re-live their deaths. This is a memory of death, an echo of death, and it can only be here for one reason: the Chalice must be inside.' He stalked into the swirling dust, echoes of Thule soldiers bursting as he brushed past them, shoulders squared as he headed for the barn.

More and more could Albus see the blackened stones, the building showing its true, gutted form as the memory marched on. He glanced at Eva, whose jaw was set in that pained, determined way he recognised, before they followed. He could understand why even the Thornweavers didn't come here. Saint Annard was protected by secrecy and by the Inferi; without their raid on the _Naglfar_, without Thane's understanding of Lethe, they could never have got this far. That this resting place of the Chalice had no final protection did not surprise him.

The figures of dust were collapsing as the memory went on, as the living walked amongst them, and Albus's shoulders slowly relaxed as the screaming from inside the barn subsided. Even if he knew it was stopping because the ghosts were too far gone to make a sound, at least he didn't have to hear them. They found Scorpius stood in the shrouded, gloomy barn, cast in darkness by the tall, blackened walls even if the roof had burnt out. He was frozen in place, staring at the remains of an internal stone wall upon which sat a silvery cup.

Albus had seen several resting places of the Chalice of Emrys, but this was by far the least impressive - and yet the one which made his skin crawl the most. 'I hate that bloody thing.'

'Not as much,' murmured Scorpius, and the shreds of sunlight that crept through the ceiling reflected off the silvery surface of the Chalice to cast pale angles across his sharp face, 'as I do.'

* * *

><p>'This is an upgrade,' said Selena, and tugged at the bindings that kept her tied to the chair, hands behind her back. 'Do I get room service now?' It was easier to joke now she was out of the prison cell, and so she was going to make the most of it. Perhaps to annoy her captors. Perhaps to distract herself while she still could.<p>

Joachim Raskoph stood with two of his masked guards. The town hall was one of the few parts of the village - not that she'd seen much of it - which was still intact, and it was where the Thornweavers had established their base of operations and barracks. She'd been dragged out of the cellars only minutes ago to hear the screams of death and shouts of combat, and bundled into the office that was Raskoph's sanctum here.

She'd seen him before. He'd come down into the darkness and the whispers of her cell, just the once. Conversation had been neither stimulating nor enlightening, and she had no idea how long she'd been there or what was going on. But if someone was killing Thornweavers, if she was being moved closer to be guarded better, it was a good enough reason to hope.

Raskoph gave her an emotionless look. 'You think you are being funny.'

'_I _think this beats being in a dark, tiny, cold room and having to shit in a bucket.'

'I could gag you.'

'And I was just starting to enjoy our talks.' Again, she tugged at the bindings. Again, she concluded this rope was magical. 'I do love your rhetoric about how you're going to destroy the world's corrupt, depraved ways, and especially how you're going to destroy my mother. We could bond on that.'

Raskoph hefted the cuffs she'd been transported in, removed when they'd bound her to the chair. They were large, enchanted shackles that had attached themselves to her wrists and ankles with just the flick of a wand and made it hard to think, let alone move or walk. The Thornweavers had all but carried her out of her makeshift cell, through the echoing and ruined town hall. 'You are very bold,' he said, voice still without inflection, 'for a girl at my mercy.'

'If you were going to kill me, you wouldn't have abducted me,' said Selena with a shrug. 'I'm the daughter of Lillian Rourke. You want to use me, probably to manipulate her - which, newsflash, won't work. I don't think even a Killing Curse would crack her these days. But you've gone to some effort to abduct me, so you won't just finish me off for being annoying.'

'True,' said Raskoph, and rested his hand on the wand sheathed at his hip. 'But if this is a rescue effort that might succeed, I could kill you to stop the IMC from recovering you.'

The thudding fear that buzzed through her veins and thudded with her heartbeats hit a new, faster tempo. Selena licked dry lips. 'Yeah, okay,' she said, and the whimsical voice of a defence mechanism was no longer defiant. 'You might do that.' At this point it seemed judicious to fall silent.

At this point, the wall was also blasted in by Matthias Doyle.

Heavy stone rubble flew through the air to crash into one of the Thornweaver guards, who collapsed with a gurgle, countless somethings probably broken. Selena's heart lunged into her throat as Matt stormed in through the gap, sword in one hand, wand in the other, hurling curses and covering fire - and behind him, already beginning an onslaught at the standing Thornweaver guard, came Rose -

Then Prometheus Thane marched in with them and Selena was _really _confused.

'Get Selena!' Matt yelled at Rose, taking her target.

Thane rounded on Raskoph, aristocratic features twisted into a superior smile. 'Hello, sir. It's been a while.'

Raskoph barely batted an eyelid, but then his wand was in his hand and levelled at Thane, so fast Selena wondered if she'd blinked and missed it. 'Traitor,' was all he said, still without inflection, and then magic flew through the air like wildfire.

Selena swore and tugged at her bindings, then Rose was at her side, wand tapping on the rope. 'What the _bloody _hell is going on, Weasley?'

'Rescue mission! You're welcome.' Rose muttered incantations, needing to break down the enchantments on the rope before she could untie it.

'With _Thane_?'

'There are so, so many stories to tell you when this is over. You're not hurt?'

'I've been stuck in a cellar for the past few days, so tell me the truth: how bad is my hair?'

'I'll take that as a no…'

Selena had seen many fights, and she'd seen them all with a barely-contained panic at the knowledge that she was never the best combatant on the field. She always stuck with someone, helping shield them, focusing on their target, making sure she could watch someone's back and have hers watched in turn. It was terrifying and a little embarrassing when one stood beside formidable fighters like Albus Potter, but it was nothing like being bound and helpless and only being able to watch.

Matt had closed the distance, like he always did, moving with a magically-enhanced speed to bring his sword into the equation as he clashed with the standing Thornweaver. Spells flashed through the air along with the edge of metal, and the fight was as much physical as it was magical, both men in a back-and-forth dance of striking, evading, retaliating.

What was happening between Thane and Raskoph was a completely different game. Neither man hardly moved, wands swishing with ultimate efficiency, but the energy crackling between them was enough to make the hairs on the back of Selena's neck stand on end. One would flinch, then the other, and with no incantations given, barely any kind of magical light show, she had to guess the spells were mental more than physical. Then Raskoph gave a grunt of pain and staggered back, and that made Thane move. He lunged forwards, Raskoph's wand snapped up, and then it was a fight the like of which she recognised better - albeit on a whole new level of speed and terror.

Blue energy crackled from Raskoph's wand-tip, Thane caught it with his left hand and hurled it harmlessly into a wall before making the floorboards under Raskoph's feet buckle and surge. Raskoph seemed to step upwards into thin air and hovered for a moment, his footing not remotely threatened, then swished his wand for a spell which howled as it sliced through air, through thought, through space itself. Thane ducked that one, and sheer stone in the wall behind him shuddered at the perfect, narrow, straight slice that appeared in it.

There was a yell of pain, and Selena's head snapped around as she thought it was Matt - but he was still standing, sword gleaming a trail through the air, Thornweaver falling with a spray of blood. She couldn't tell if that had been a lethal blow. _I remember when he tried like hell to not use that to kill. B_ut then Matt was turning on Raskoph, moving to join and reinforce Thane.

'Rose, this is dumb; go help and the three of you can take down Raskoph,' Selena hissed.

'We're not planning to win. We're planning to run. Thane's not sure he can _take _him -'

And Raskoph broke Thane's guard, just in time to prove that suspicion right. The spell didn't do much; Thane had deflected most of it, his shields absorbing the rest. But it did make him stumble, and in that stumble, Raskoph struck. By magic he hurled not a weapon at Thane, but the magical shackles which had bound Selena on the way up here.

Rose swore as the shackles found Thane's wrists, then dragged him jerking forward so they could snap onto both hands, his ankles, trussing him up as they were enchanted to do. There wasn't more than a gurgled curse from Thane before he fell to the floor, hog-tied, wand spinning out of his grip. Matt lunged over Thane's fallen form, sword in a low guard before him, wand in his left hand, held back and ready for defence. 'Rose!' he bellowed. 'Untie Selena and _go_!'

Then he threw himself at Joachim Raskoph for a fresh bout he couldn't possibly win, and it was Selena's turn to swear. 'Did he go _absolutely mental _when I wasn't looking?' But Rose didn't answer, redoubling her efforts to unlock the magical bindings keeping Selena in place. 'You're not actually _listening _to this stupid plan?'

'I'm almost there…'

_Almost_, thought Selena as she watched Matt and Raskoph clash, _might not be good enough._

Matt wasn't letting Raskoph get any distance, because if he had one edge, it was the sword that could slice through magical protections. He'd been training with it, Selena thought as he even lifted the blade to deflect a spell Raskoph hurled at him, the metal glinting as it absorbed the magic that would have likely killed him. For his age, Raskoph was not at all slowed. But he _was _pressed back, for no barrier he raised could block adamantine, and so he had to evade physically, not magically. Matt kept his wand ready to defend himself, sword-blows the bulk of his attacks, body already surging with those charms he used to make himself stronger, quicker. Still Raskoph ducked, sidestepped and weaved. Once he sprouted a long blade from the tip of his wand, parried and attempted a riposte, but Matt was quicker, and on the second clashing of sword on sword, the Templar blade shattered his summoned weapon.

'You know,' said Selena, eyebrows raised, 'he's actually not doing too badly.'

She should have known better than to curse him like that. Raskoph leapt backwards from the latest swipe, expression set. 'Adeptly done, Mister Doyle,' he said. 'But those old ways are long gone for a reason.'

Matt's voice came ragged, exertion getting the better of him more than his enemy. The charms which reinforced his body also took their toll, in time, and the battle stretched on. 'They're doing me alright for now.'

'Enchantment's down,' muttered Rose, and clicked her tongue with satisfaction. 'I'm just getting the rope.'

'Indeed.' Raskoph swished his wand at his free hand, conjuring another blade, this one to be held instead of produced at wand-tip. 'Sometimes it is worth revering them.'

Matt glanced at the edge. 'You know adamantine will break that.'

'I know,' said Raskoph, and lashed out with his wand again. Three spells in quick succession, so swift Selena couldn't guess what they were, and Matt blocked the first two adroitly. The third was further to his right, and the sword swept out, parried the blast, his blade outstretched to the side, which was when Raskoph struck like a snake. He closed the gap in one bound, and wand-magic met wand-magic in his blast and Matt's defence.

Then metal met flesh as his conjured blade sliced through Matt's wrist.

There was no noise of impact save the scream that tore from Matt's throat and through Selena's chest, and black pinpricks sprung up at the corner of her vision as she watched him fall. Blood surged from the stump, his wand dropped so he could clutch at it in agony and instinct to staunch the bleeding. And Raskoph just stepped back, expression impassive.

Rose was crossing the gap before Selena could blink, and had she been capable of speaking, Selena would have yelled at her for leaving her still bound. But then Rose was by Matt's side, voice stumbling over healing incantations that would never regrow a limb, but might stop him from bleeding out, and the note of panic in her friend's voice was so very, very familiar.

'Now would be time for you to surrender, Miss Weasley,' said Raskoph, and Selena jerked her hands to tug at the bonds that had been only partly loosened. 'Lay down your wand, and I will let you live, girl.'

Rose didn't answer, still bent over Matt's fallen form. Either he'd passed out or she'd charmed him into blissful unconsciousness, and for a moment Selena was afraid Rose wasn't responding because she'd gone too far away inside to have heard Raskoph. Then she stood. 'Girl,' repeated Rose in a whisper that somehow still stretched across the room shattered by magics. 'If nothing else, do not forget that I am still a witch.'

_Oh, Rose, you fucking idiot_, was all Selena could think as her wand lashed out for a fresh flurry of spells. Raskoph had just beaten Thane, just beaten Matt, and while she rated Rose over him, that didn't mean she thought this was a fight they could win. She went back to struggling at her bindings, and watched the inevitable defeat unfold.

Rose had never been their best fighter. That had always been Albus. Scorpius had been excellent for sheer unpredictability, and over time Matt had proved himself a solid opponent. Rose was not especially inventive in combat; while she might use an obscure spell, it would still be entirely by the book. This at least meant her shields were always the best the Hogwarts Five had to offer. Raskoph's spells crashed against them, and Rose hurled back the odd retaliation, jaw tight, eyes bright with concentration, every wand move conservative, precise. But though she stood steady, there was no way she wouldn't be worn down.

_She__'s stalling for time. _Selena blinked - then realised she was the only possible cavalry that could come and save this rescue from calamity. Rope tore at her skin as she tugged, but this wasn't the worst pain she'd suffered, wasn't the worst fate she could hope for, and she struggled and yanked and then -

Freedom. Free hands, and she could pull the rope away from herself and the chair, stand, and…

And do absolutely nothing, stood in the middle of the battle-scarred room while Raskoph and Rose clashed spell on spell. They either hadn't noticed her, locked in their fight, or they were ignoring her because she was harmless and useless and -

'Rourke…'

Prometheus Thane's voice was a low growl. She knew how hard it was to do anything with those bindings on; they didn't just tie up the body, they tied up _thoughts_, too, and to speak must have taken a supreme effort of will. She turned to face him, saw those blue eyes that still thudded hatred through her heart, and saw his gaze flicker from her to a point on the ground. '_Wand_.'

His wand. Of course. She ran, scooped it up, turned on Raskoph, and hesitated. He could take them both in a straight fight, probably with one hand tied behind his back. She was not a great addition to combat. If she was going to do anything, she had to do it now, take him down, take him by surprise. There was only one spell she knew for sure would do that.

Selena lifted Prometheus Thane's wand, narrowed her eyes at Raskoph's unprotected back, and drew a deep breath. '_Avada Kedavra_.'

The air was sucked from her lungs, from her ears, and Prometheus Thane's wand shuddered in her grip at the eruption of green light. A distant part of Selena's mind mused that she'd never _seen _the Killing Curse used, but it still seemed like the light was bursting too soon, dissipating too soon, and sound came crashing back into the world _too soon_. Raskoph spun at her words, eyes wide, trying to hurl himself back - but the spell hit, and at once Selena knew that she had _not _cast successfully. _You have to mean it_. That was what Professor Tully had said in her NEWTs, that was what her great-uncle Barnabus had grumbled about when he got too far into drinks and work over family dinners. And despite all Raskoph had done, despite all she knew he was going to do, she'd hesitated.

The half-spell, the ghost of flawed hate and uncertain pain, still thudded into Raskoph's side and sent him staggering back. His robes and skin smoked on impact, and there was a yell of pain as the green-hued light rippled across him.

Rose lifted her wand, but looked too startled to exploit the opening, and in the chaos Selena scrabbled around the room to join her. Two wands were better than one for Shielding them from the inevitable onslaught and retaliation.

Raskoph had a hand to the struck cheek, but when he lowered it the skin was smoldering, blackened with a greenish hue, and tugging at his lip to give him a sneer. 'Go, then.' His voice was a rasp on granite. 'Just know you are saving _nothing_.' Then he swished his wand, turned on the spot, and with a _crack _he disappeared.

'Bloody hell.' Rose's wand dipped, and she looked at Selena. 'Did you just - did _he _just -'

'I screwed it up.' Selena's brow pinched, and she turned to Matt. 'Is he -'

'Alive.' Rose hurried back to his side. 'I've staunched the bleeding, but we want to get him to a hospital as _soon _as possible - once the others are here -'

'The others - and what the _hell _is Thane doing -' It seemed neither of them was going to finish a sentence, as that was the moment three figures burst through the hole in the wall: Albus Potter, Eva Saida, and Scorpius Malfoy.

'We saw the green light!' said Albus, eyes wide, wand hefted before him. 'Is everyone okay?' Then his gaze found Matt's crumpled form and he swore.

'He's alive,' Rose said again, lifting a hand. 'We drove off Raskoph.'

Albus nodded. 'We got the Chalice. The Inferi are fighting _each other _out there now; looks like conflicting Thornweaver orders. But whichever side wins is going to come for _us _soon.'

Selena stared at Scorpius. 'What the _fuck _is going on?'

'It's a long story,' said Rose, but she, too, watched Scorpius as he hurried across the office to the side of Thane, still on the ground, still bundled up by the magical bindings. 'Don't let him out of those.'

Scorpius stood over Thane, and gave her a sidelong look. 'We just _helped _you -'

'Yes,' said Rose. 'You did.' Then she lifted her wand. '_Stupefy_.'

Scorpius - or whoever the hell it was - didn't have time to give more than a garbled oath before the spell thudded into him, and he fell like a stone next to Prometheus Thane.

Albus strode forwards. 'Rose -'

'Are you a _complete _idiot, Al?' Rose's voice was low and flat. 'I heard what he said on the _Naglfar_. In the tent last night. But there is no way, no _way _I am letting _whatever _this is walk away from here. Neither him nor Thane. Even if it's just so I will have _answers_.'

Selena kept gawping at Scorpius' crumbled form. 'So that's a crazy illusion? Polyjuice?'

'We're going back to Britain,' Rose said, ignoring her, 'getting Matt to a hospital, and giving _those _two to the DMLE.' Then her gaze fell on Eva Saida, who had barely moved except to shift her wand into a low guard. 'You…'

Eva grimaced. 'Do I get double-crossed, too? I don't have enough moral high ground to get indignant about that.'

Rose flinched. 'Get out of here. Go wherever you damn well please. You - you helped us in Ager Sanguinis. We wouldn't have got to the _Naglfar _if it weren't for you.'

'True enough.' But Eva bit her lip, her gaze flickering from Thane's fallen form, to Rose, then finally to Albus, whose expression was pinched, pained. Then she straightened, and flipped her wand in her hand, extending the grip towards him. Emotion fled from her face and her voice. 'Be sure to tell the British government that.'

Albus stared. 'What are you doing?'

Eva drew a raking breath. 'Surrendering.'

'You could -'

'Run? And keep running? And run for the rest of my life and never see -' She stopped herself. 'Just bring me in with them. We'll see where judgement falls.'

Rose's expression hadn't changed. 'Then let's go, before Matt has to wait any longer. We can Apparate to the border, French authorities in Calais can pick us up and get us routed straight to London…'

Selena's jaw remained dropped as she looked at the trussed-up Prometheus Thane who'd helped rescue her, the Stunned Scorpius Malfoy who'd come back from the dead, the disarmed Eva Saida who'd just surrendered, and the bewildered Albus Potter who was holding the Chalice of Emrys, and swore. 'Not that I'm not grateful for the rescue,' she said, 'but I'm _really_ confused.'

* * *

><p><em>AN: The notion of the massacre of Saint Annard, and the specifics of how it happened, are derived from the genuine, historical massacre of Oradour-sur-Glane by SS forces in 1944. For however comic-book evil Raskoph can seem, in this incident he has been no worse than genuine monsters of genuine history._

_There is a spot of headcanon at work with Selena__'s Killing Curse misfire. The Killing Curse cannot be easy, or it would be the bread-and-butter of every single 'bad guy' attack if they had no reason to hold back. My thinking is that it takes concentration and focus, which is not always available in the middle of a rolling scrap, and that it takes - like the Cruciatus - true belief, hatred, meaning on the part of the caster. The further headcanon is that something like that might not be a spell you'd want to throw around with the risk of it going _wrong_; either backfiring or possibly doing nothing. So more reliable if less-lethal spells like Stuns or general slashing/cutting/combat magics would be more bread-and-butter in a fight._

_Basically, Raskoph hasn__'t just survived a Killing Curse. Selena screwed it up and hit him with something nasty but absolutely non-lethal._


	13. Blasted and Burnt

**Blasted and Burnt**

'Potter, they got the job done -'

'Begging your pardon, Chairman, but I had people _pursuing _the _Naglfar_. We were going to have it monitored and then _track _the movements of the Council of Thorns.' Harry planted his hands on the desk, as angry as Rose thought she'd ever seen him. 'Now the Council have abandoned the ship, and they'll set up their transportation network somewhere else, somewhere we don't _know _about.'

'What's that even worth, Harry?' Rose said before she could stop herself. 'You didn't anticipate the attacks, you didn't find where they sent Selena. Were we supposed to _leave _her there on the off-chance you set up a surveillance op?'

Harry flinched, jaw tight. For a moment he didn't say anything, just scowled at his office door. Their return to Britain had been in a hail of chaos and acclaim, but there was a lot of judgement that had yet to be passed, dangling overhead still like a sword of Damocles. Lillian Rourke had come right down to the MLE office, as had Hermione, and the three of them stood on Harry's side of the desk before Albus, Rose and Selena, like a Greek chorus of disapproval that stuck in Rose's throat.

It took a moment before Harry spoke, and his voice grated when he did. 'I don't blame you. I understand you did what you had to do -'

'And I, for one,' said Lillian, 'am _grateful _for what you did.'

'But it still disrupted a slew of our operations, losing the _Naglfar. _I cannot _believe _that Gabriel Doyle gave you information and support for such a strike; he should have known better! If _I__'d _known you were working with him -'

'You were in _America_,' retorted Rose. 'Nobody was doing anything, and we _had _to act.'

'We had people in America,' said Lillian, 'but that _did _lead to last night's raid in Chicago which has gutted the biggest Council cell in the US. It's crippled their operations in North America, and that came about _with _your uncle's work and help.' She cast a glance at her daughter. 'It was the strategic priority.'

Rose could hear the pain and apology in Lillian's voice, and the part of her that was still calm and patient winced in sympathy. She'd seen the reports as they'd returned; Lillian Rourke had marshaled Aurors and Enforcers from Europe and the Americas and overseen the cooperation of intelligence and manpower that had led to the first major blow against the Council of Thorns in this new outbreak of hostilities. Kicking Thornweavers out of the USA was no minor coup for the IMC, or for Lillian herself, or for her uncle, who had been up to his elbows in the operation.

But, strategic priority or not, it still hadn't broken Selena out.

'We didn't tell any of you,' Albus chirped up, 'because we knew you'd stop us. And I, for one, am not _sorry_.'

Rose shot her mother a pointed look, and Hermione drew a slow breath. 'I knew they were working with Doyle.'

Harry gave her a betrayed look. 'You _knew_? He has been an _utter _liability -'

'Something needed to be done,' said Hermione, voice tightening.

'He still gave them illegal Portkeys to conduct operations which have disrupted official operations,' said Harry with finality, and straightened. '_Ron_!'

Somehow the bellow passed through the door to summon Rose's father. He stood in the doorway, expression studied and blank, and she could appreciate that if ever there was a time to run to professionalism, it was now. 'Sir?'

_I have never_, thought Rose, _heard Dad call Harry, __'sir'. This is a disaster._

'Get a team together,' said Harry, hands planted on the desk, 'and arrest Gabriel Doyle. And when I say "people", I mean Proudfoot, I mean Savage. Suspend Bell and Cole.'

Albus straightened. 'Dad, what the hell -'

'We are at war, and I cannot have the left hand not knowing what the right is doing. If Gabriel Doyle wants to fight the Council, he can do so with us. No more of this independent work.'

'Surely you should be arresting _us_. We were the ones who hit the _Naglfar_, we were the ones who disrupted your operations -'

'You didn't know better,' said Harry. 'He did.'

Rose looked over her shoulder at her father. 'If you want to find him,' she said, voice arch, 'he'll no doubt be at _Saint Mungo__'s_, with his _son_.'

Ron ducked out of the room without a word, and Hermione glared daggers at Harry. 'This is setting a dangerous precedent -'

'Enough.' Lillian Rourke moved to the side of the desk, turning the lines of judgement into a semi-circle of discussion. 'Bringing in Gabriel Doyle is the Auror Office's right. At the least, conversations need to be had. We'll have plenty of time to discuss what comes next. For the moment, I'd like to know more about what's happened, and what's going on.'

Selena exhaled. 'If Raskoph didn't get in touch with anyone, I don't know why he captured me. I wasn't questioned. I wasn't mistreated. I was just thrown in a cell for a couple of days. If he had something in mind, I saw no sign of it. Either it was going on beyond what I could see, or it hadn't happened yet.'

'He didn't try to blackmail me privately, he didn't try to use your abduction publicly. If Rose hadn't witnessed it, we might _still _not know, and assume you amongst the dead at Hogsmeade.'

'He fled,' said Rose. 'No idea where, though he may have a tough time leaving Europe without the _Naglfar_. But I bet he's gone to ground. In the meantime, we have the Chalice of Emrys.'

'And Prometheus Thane,' said Selena.

'And,' said Albus, 'Scorpius Malfoy.'

'Or someone who claims to be him.' Rose's lips thinned.

'You heard him in Rotterdam, Rose -'

'I heard very convincing stories.'

'So convincing you had to blast him in the face?'

Rose turned to Albus, throat tight. 'From the conversation last night, I wasn't sure he'd come quietly. I thought he and Thane might slip away. And whatever I think of this Scorpius, I _know _I don't trust Thane. Would you rather we'd let them go, so you had nothing more than your faith to reassure you? If he's _here _we can get _answers._'

_And if it__'s him_, she told herself, because she had to, _then he won__'t get locked up. _Coming back to Britain was letting churning fear and spinning confusion form into the beginnings of firm thoughts, firm feelings, and while there was apprehension and bewilderment, there was, somewhere deep inside, a glimmer of hope. It was small and it was terrifying, and she had to work hard to not smother it with her old habit of cold indifference, but with each fact that came in, it gleamed a little brighter.

_That. _That's _why I Stunned him, brought him in._

Lillian lifted a hand again. 'We also have Eva Saida. I have been contacted by Russian authorities, and it seems that Balthazar Vadimas is _not _seeking her release.'

'That was on the cards?' said Selena.

'We've made deals in the past,' said Lillian, 'to not prosecute former Thornweavers, even if they're working with figures like Vadimas. It's meant that Thornweavers _would _switch sides. But apparently she's not valuable enough to the Russians, so we get to keep her.'

At last, Harry glanced to Albus, who just said, 'She helped us in Ager Sanguinis. We wouldn't have got Selena back without her help. That's all I've got to put forward. Do what you want with her.'

'There are a lot of debates to be had. She's not the first of her kind,' sighed Lillian. 'But she can provide us with information and the big questions can wait until _after _the war.'

'Does any of this apply to Prometheus Thane?' said Rose. 'He _has _turned on the Council, and if Romano Vida was actually a traitor to the IMC, a man on the inside -'

'We didn't want to advertise Vida's true affiliations,' said Hermione. 'It would make the IMC seem weak. Not that one of our national representatives being murdered was a great display of strength. But it's certainly true that Thane has only been focusing on Council targets since he left them.'

'However,' said Lillian, 'Thane has made no deals, come to no governments, cooperated with us in not one single way. He is an utter renegade, fighting his own private war against the Council, and that man is a danger to _everyone_. We are under no legal requirement to forgive him, and I, for one, would like to throw him into the deepest, darkest dungeons.'

'Done,' said Harry.

'After,' said Hermione, 'we question him.'

'Soon,' said Lillian. 'There's still the matter of the Chalice.'

Rose's jaw tightened. 'There are few experts on the Chalice of Emrys,' she said. 'Thane is likely one of them. Another is Reynald de Sablé, but he's an associate of Gabriel Doyle's and so you might want to throw _him _in jail, too.'

Hermione grimaced. 'Rose -'

'The last is in Saint Mungo's with his _hand _cut off,' Selena finished for her. 'He's also the person most likely to know where de Sablé is and most likely to be able to get him on-side, after his father.'

'Then for the moment,' said Lillian, 'I suggest we entrust the Chalice to Ms Granger's Task Force.'

'I can use it for curing Lethe abroad.' Hermione nodded. 'And get Lockett to work on it, too.'

'Which brings us to the last topic,' Lillian said. 'Who, or what, is in our cells wearing the face of the late Scorpius Malfoy?'

'Every disenchantment charm has been run on him,' said Harry. 'It's not a Polyjuice or an illusion or anything of that ilk. His face has to have been changed using permanent magics, or Muggle methods -'

'It's _him_,' said Albus.

A glint of pity entered his father's eye. 'That's not possible, Al -'

'How _many _impossible things have you seen? Have you _done_? I know him better than anyone in this world, and I'm telling you, that _is _Scorpius Malfoy.'

Hermione stepped forward. 'We can run tests on his blood. More reliable than Legilimency or Veritaserum; if he _is _a decoy, it's entirely possible that he doesn't know, so I'd rather not test his mind. Those won't take long, and then we will know for sure.'

'And when we prove he is,' said Albus, 'does _he _get thrown into a jail cell with Thane and Gabriel Doyle?'

Lillian winced. 'I think that will depend on what Thane has to say, and what "Malfoy" has to say. I'm not committing to anything yet.'

'That,' drawled Selena, 'and it'll look _terrible _politically if the hero who gave his life to defeat the Council came back from the dead and was promptly locked up. If you have no more questions for me, I'm going to the hospital. Matt's going to have a bad enough time waking up as it is.'

As she left, Rose didn't budge an inch, even though she felt Albus' eyes on her. She looked at Harry, still taut and angry, to her mother, tense and apprehensive, to Lillian, oddly calm and in control, and drew a deep breath. 'What now?'

'Lockett should have brewed us up the Veritaserum by now,' said Lillian, and turned to Harry. 'So I suggest you see about the interrogation of Prometheus Thane.'

'I want to be there,' said Rose and Albus in unison.

'You can _watch_,' said Harry. 'I'm not bending the rules any more than that.'

'And I look forward to the report.' Lillian straightened. 'In the meantime, I need to make a lot of Floo calls. You're right about one thing, Mister Potter; we can't have the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'You're going to call for a total state of emergency?'

'I will not, in these times, have _even more _of our efforts at fighting the Council get waylaid by internal politics. This is a time for one single, strong voice to lead the world in this war. The Lethe attacks have left a lot of governments rattled, but I need to make sure they will not try to run from a strong voice in their fear.' She sighed. 'I'd hoped to give all of this up. But needs must. And I am truly sick of politics getting in the way of saving lives.'

* * *

><p>Prometheus Thane sat cuffed to his chair in the interrogation room, unconcerned gaze fixed on Harry Potter. Even on the other side of the one-way glass, Albus could almost feel the tension radiating off his father.<p>

'He's wound up too tight,' murmured Hermione. 'I don't like this.'

'That's two minutes.' Harry's voice was piped magically through the glass, crystal clear. 'The Veritaserum will be in effect now.'

'Indeed,' said Thane. 'So you probably want me to tell all? I'll start from the beginning, then.' He leaned forwards, cuffs rattling as he rested his hands on the table. 'The history of the Council of Thorns. Raskoph. Phlegethon, Eridanos, Lethe. The lot.'

'Who recruited you into the Council of Thorns?'

'A man named Gerald Wakefield, but you killed him last year. It doesn't matter; I was hired to do menial tasks at first, tracing certain historic sources on necromantic rituals. Those needed begging, borrowing, _stealing_. It was information which eventually led to the creation of Phlegethon.' Thane tilted his head. 'Ask me about the origin of the Council.'

'This is powerful Veritaserum,' murmured Rose as Harry did so.

'It wouldn't compel him to be _helpful_,' said Hermione. 'I don't like this.'

'He's an enemy of the Council,' Albus said. 'Perhaps he knows it's in his best interest to cooperate.'

'The Council of Thorns didn't start with Raskoph, but it might as well have,' came Thane's voice through the glass. 'After the Grindelwald Wars, a lot of the Thule Society fled Europe. They went to South America, just like their Muggle counterparts, hiding out in Bolivia and Chile and the like. And there they've lurked these past eighty years, lunatic relics.'

'Did they -' Harry stopped himself. 'Who formed the Council of Thorns?'

Albus heard Hermione give a relieved exhale as Harry stuck to asking open questions.

'They did. Krauser, Horn, Voigt. They were the first; Krauser propped up Acosta in Brazil. You'll notice they're all dead now, and that Voigt, at least, was removed from power _by _Raskoph, out-manoeuvred by him and surrendered his authority in Panama,' Thane said. 'But I'm getting ahead of myself. They were the first, but people like Raskoph were amongst their followers. I say "followers"; those three were more moderate, more reasonable. Even if Raskoph was closer to Grindelwald, more trusted by him - he liaised with the Muggles, after all - Krauser and the others were the ones capable of putting such a group together.

'The Council of Thorns has rather disguised its Thule Society roots,' said Thane, 'or it did, before Raskoph. Even mercenaries think twice about working for those kind of Dark Wizards. So Krauser and the others presented themselves as a group looking to restore order in a desparate world, champion old traditions and principles left by the wayside, and if they happened to have some relics amongst them, if they happened to _be _relics, well, that was all a long time ago. But this facade allowed them to gather hirelings, followers, associates.'

'What do you mean by "associates"?' asked Harry.

'People like Vida. Those in governments, those in powerful corporations who harboured traditionalist sympathies. The Council had wealth from everything the Thule Society stole from Europe, but this gave them more wealth, more influence, more power.' Thane leaned back in his chair. 'It was in these early days that I joined the Council, which was when I met Raskoph.'

'Under what circumstances?'

'I didn't develop Phlegethon. I _did _develop the infection method, the massive ritual at Hogwarts and it was my idea to use the site of… well, your death, as a power source. But Phlegethon - and from it Eridanos, Lethe - are older. Far older.' He shook his head. 'Raskoph provided the roots with what he called ancient texts and ancient research. I don't know what these texts _were_, but there was a reason he was given the assignment for the Chalice of Emrys. He is an expert in all things old, and _he _was the one who knew the Chalice could be used to create Lethe. It was "perfect", he said, and while I assumed he was on board because we thought it might be in an old Thule or Nazi holding, his knowledge of the Templars and the magics of the Chalice went far, far deeper.'

'Do you have any theories on the origin of Phlegethon?'

Thane grimaced. 'I think it might have been something the Thule Society looked into in its heyday. I don't know if they dug it up, developed it, derived it from something. But the Thule Society wanted the Chalice of Emrys back then, too. I think that the Chalice's use in creating Lethe is more than magics which happen to align. It's possible they share an origin.'

Harry nodded, and looked down at his papers. 'Alright. Tell me about your separation from the Council.'

'I was paid very well, well enough to look the other way on their misdeeds - to a point,' said Thane. 'It took me a while to realise how deep the Thule Society roots went, that we are talking about an organisation that is truly, _truly _evil. Like I said, they presented themselves as being traditionalists, not ancient villains of old. And by the time I saw them for what theywere, I was too entrenched in a project to get out.'

'What project?'

'Project Osiris. The recovery of the Chalice of Emrys and the resurrection of Scorpius Malfoy - and, through him, the reclaiming of Lethe.'

Albus heard Rose's breath catch.

Harry met Thane's gaze. 'Did you really resurrect Scorpius Malfoy?'

There was a slow nod. 'Absolutely. It took the summoning of the Chalice of Emrys from the realm of the dead, which required eighteen months of researching necromancy, finding locations which connected and tethered the Chalice to our world, and then finding somewhere the gap _between _the realms was thinnest. Which was expensive and time-consuming, but Raskoph was determined this would happen. He was prepared for the rest of the Council to flounder without Lethe, while he spent the last two years supplanting them, taking over, and biding his time until Lethe was back in his hands. And he wasn't the only person who charged me with this job.'

'Who else?'

'The same man who gave me the location of the Hogwarts Five in Venice.' Thane's brow furrowed. 'Draco Malfoy.'

'Son of a bitch,' Albus hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry remained silent for a heartbeat, then scribbled something onto a fresh piece of paper. It folded itself into a plane and floated out under the door. 'Draco Malfoy is associated with the Council of Thorns?'

'He is. He was one of those corporate types who jumped on board when the Council was just a "traditionalist" movement. He's invested a _lot _of money into it, and it was through subsidiaries of his company that the Council managed to ship Lethe internationally. He's probably the most powerful person in the organisation who's not Thule Society.'

'Is the man you were brought back to Britain with really Scorpius Malfoy?'

'Yes,' said Thane. 'We resurrected him with the Chalice, and Raskoph immediately had Lethe extracted from him, contained. Raskoph spent the last eight months studying it, perfecting it, and then using Draco Malfoy to get it distributed worldwide. When that job was done, I had no reason to stick around with the Council.'

'Why did you wait that long?'

'Because the job was going to get done by _somebody_. I'm brilliant, but I'm not the only brilliant person out there.' Thane shrugged. 'Someone else would have brought him back, and then I wouldn't know how it happened, where, when. So I waited until it was done, which means I know an awful lot about Lethe, and it meant that when I left the Council, I could bring Scorpius Malfoy _with _me, along with those loyal to me.'

'Why did you bring him with you?'

'He didn't want to work for the Council. He hates them, and he's hardly thrilled by his father's role in all of this. That's why he wanted to leave. I wanted him with _me_ because… well, I like the boy, but I can't lie. It's given me a certain insurance against his father. Raskoph would happily kill us all, and Thornweavers who want to please him will try. But Draco Malfoy would rather get his darling boy back, and Thornweavers who would want to please _him _will thus try to take at least him alive. Which made them hold back, which gave me an edge.'

'And Scorpius Malfoy didn't want to return home?'

'You'd have to ask him about that,' said Thane.

Footsteps thudded to Albus' left, and he turned to see Rose storming from the room. He exchanged startled glances with Hermione, but otherwise followed in a flash, bursting into the corridors of the MLE prisons to see her striding off. 'Rose…?'

She stopped in the corridor, brought her hand up to her temples, and when she turned it was with a pained, anguished expression that was still the most honest he'd seen her in two years. 'It really is him, isn't it.'

'It…' Albus swallowed. 'It looks like. You could see him -'

She closed the distance in three quick strides, threw her arms around him with such an impact he staggered. But he didn't hesitate before returning the embrace, close and tight. 'I'm already being a _shit _for not going to see Matt,' Rose whispered. 'He might be in Saint Mungo's a while, but I _have _to be there when he wakes up.'

'Okay. I understand.' He didn't even disagree, but he did know he didn't envy Rose this snarl. He pulled back and tried a smile. 'We did it, Rose. We got Selena back.'

'Yelled at our parents together. And the IMC Chairman.'

'It needed doing.' He squeezed her shoulder. 'Give Matt my best, will you?'

'Sure.' She bit her lip. 'And - just see if he's okay. If it's him, he _can__'t _stay here.'

'I know. Don't you worry.' Albus let her go, keeping his smile in place. 'It'll be okay.'

'It never is,' said Rose as she left, but she was, for once, dry rather than fatalistic.

It was another hour before Harry emerged from the interrogation room, an hour of Albus and Hermione sat in the listening chamber, drinking coffee, watching as Prometheus Thane rattled off reams and reams of information on the Council of Thorns' operations. Some of this seemed already known to the IMC. Some of it had even Hermione writing frantic, scribbled notes.

As Thane did nothing more interesting than reel off dates and names, Albus glanced at his aunt. 'So, Dad's become a whole lot _colder _these past two years.' He was too angry to be guilty.

Hermione's gaze tightened, and she nodded. 'It's been hard. Not just with you gone, but with the Council, with everything. He's been overworked for too long.'

'You don't agree with how he's handling it.'

'I think it's Harry's job to worry about fighting the Council. I think it's my job, and Lillian's, to worry about how we make the _whole world _fight the Council,' was the diplomatic answer, and she looked at him. 'It's good you're back. I think it'll help him.'

'Mn.' Albus grimaced. 'I've obviously been away too long.'

But then Harry was wrapping up, gathering his papers and leaving the interrogation room, so he bounced to his feet and went to the corridor to intercept him. 'I _cannot _believe you're arresting Gabriel Doyle.'

Harry stopped, frown deepening. 'He's stolen government information, and he's acted without our knowledge to disrupt our operations. Just because we have the same enemy doesn't make us on the same side. I have offered, again and again, for him to work with us, but he's refused.'

'Have you considered why?'

'Ironically,' interjected Hermione, appearing in the door behind Albus, 'it's because of the politics which slow down the process. The politics Lillian's now trying to clamp down on by giving the IMC more worldwide power. I can't say I don't sympathise.'

'This isn't the old days, Hermione,' said Harry. 'This isn't a corrupt Ministry failing to fight the real threat. We're doing everything we can, but I can't have a rogue element undermining my efforts. Nobody thinks Thane was a hero for fighting the Council on his own terms, and background aside, he's no different to Doyle in this!'

'I think background's pretty damn important,' said Albus, fists clenched. 'And I think that Gabriel Doyle allowed us to take action to _save Selena _when you couldn't. When you _didn__'t_.'

Harry flinched. 'I have a lot of responsibilities and can't be everywhere at once.'

'I think you're _pissed _at him,' snapped Albus, 'for doing what you should have, and now you're punishing him because if he did something _wrong _then you can convince yourself you couldn't have done the _exact _same thing.'

'Albus!' Hermione's voice was both shocked and warning, but Harry just straightened, having to lift his head to look his son in the eye.

'I sent orders for the arrest of Draco Malfoy; I need to see how that was resolved,' he said, voice veering into calm professionalism. 'Someone will see about the release process for Scorpius. That'll take a little time; enough for you two to talk. He's in cell 3B.'

Then he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, leaving Albus with a sinking gut and the disapproving gaze of his aunt.

'That was _very _-'

'_Correct_?' Albus turned on her, scowling. 'You don't even agree with him, not if you _knew _we were working with Doyle. And Uncle Ron's clearly going to do what he's told. But Dad's -'

'_Hating _that he has to do everything by a process, and that he has responsibilities to a whole slew of people, and wishing his own son didn't have to hurl himself into danger to do what he thought needed doing.' Hermione's voice remained low and firm. 'I doubt Doyle will be in jail long. He _does _need to cooperate with the IMC, and if this scares him into being a team player, then perhaps that's what has to happen. But you're not IMC. You're not Auror Office. And he doesn't need this from his own son.'

'He needs it from _someone_,' Albus snapped. 'And you're right, I'm not IMC or Auror Office. I actually get things _done_.'

'We're trying -'

'Then how about you stop lecturing me and either check up on your daughter, or go help Lillian Rourke make the world stop _screwing _around? If that's what it'll take to make the proper authorities more useful than one lone rich man?'

Hermione's lips thinned to the sort of disapproving expression he was used to getting from Rose. 'You might have come back, Albus,' she said, 'but you can still work _with _your family, not against. Talk to them.'

'Talking to my _family_,' said Albus, and turned away, 'is exactly what I'm going to do.'

Either his father had told the cell guards to let him through, or nobody was going to get in the way of Harry Potter's son. He was unimpeded leaving the interrogation rooms for the jail, and a dour-faced Enforcer escorted him down the line of barred cells until he was there.

Scorpius sat on the bench, head resting against the stark, grey wall. His eyes were shut, but one slid open at the footsteps, and the corner of his lip twisted. 'I guess if they're letting you see me, they're not about to lock me up and throw away the key.'

'They'll want a debriefing. And I bet they're going to keep a close eye on you.' Albus stood in the corridor, suddenly awkward, and wrung his hands together. 'But they believe you. The blood tests; Thane's admission under Veritaserum… I guess it really is you.'

Their eyes met. 'I thought you believed me?'

Something stuck in Albus' throat. 'I did. But I've seen how leaps of faith can be wrong.'

Scorpius' brow creased, and he got to his feet. 'I am so, so sorry how things have gone down the last few years, mate. I mean - I couldn't control any of it, I just…'

'Why didn't you come back?' Albus glared at a spot just above Scorpius' head. 'When Thane busted you out of Council hands. Why did you stay with _him_, why didn't you come back to, to… us…' _To me_.

'I tried.' Scorpius' expression fell. 'I _wanted _to, I mean… I almost did. Thane warned me it was all different, and I read the papers, got some intel… I knew Rose was with Matt. I knew you were gone. Whatwas I supposed to come back for? You've seen the chaos I've caused by being around for less than a day.'

Albus grimaced, but nodded. 'And then there's your father.'

'Thane told you about that. Good.' Scorpius' lips twisted. 'I knew - I mean, they told me in Ager Sanguinis. He's the reason Thane handed the Resurrection Stone over to me in Hogwarts, he's the reason they found us in Venice, he's the reason Thane had the funding and the mandate to get me _back_. So I guess I owe him that, except _fuck _him.'

'Dad's ordered his arrest.'

'Good,' Scorpius said again, but didn't look much reassured. 'Bloody hell. If he's being brought in, if Thane's locked up, if I'm _not _staying locked up… what happens next?'

'I don't know,' Albus sighed, and extended his hand through the bars. 'But I do know we can handle all of it like we always have, mate. Together?'

Now Scorpius smiled, now he grinned that grin that lit up his eyes and made the world that happier, more fun place which was only a hazy memory, and he clasped his hand for a firm shake. 'Together.'

* * *

><p>He'd plunged his hand into fire, and it wouldn't stop burning. He writhed, twisted, tried to pull it back, but the skin seared away, blackened and charred until it was just bone, and even if he lashed out, it <em>wouldn<em>_'t stop burning _-

'Matty!'

When Matt's eyes flashed open, his throat was so hoarse he realised he'd been screaming. But he wasn't stood in fire, he wasn't stood before Joachim Raskoph, he wasn't in France; he was in a white bed with white walls under white light, with the dark eyes of his older sister gazing down on him. Her hands were on his shoulders, lips pursed with concern, and she drew a deep breath as he saw her. 'Matty, you're alright.'

'Annie…' His voice came parched and cracked, and he slumped on the bed, eyelids drooping. 'What happened - where - Raskoph, Selena -'

'You're home, or, I mean, you're in Britain.' Annie Doyle let go of him as he stopped struggling and reached for a small bottle, which she lifted to his lips. 'Drink this. Your friends got you back. Everyone's safe, and you're… you're okay.'

But she looked pale and worn, and her voice creaked, and his hand still smoldered. With a groan he pushed himself up with his left elbow and drank the acrid substance. He squinted around the room as he tried to ignore the taste. Annie was not alone; Rose stood at the foot of the bed, exhausted and worn, and in the corner sat Selena. She was a silent bundle, a blanket around her, bags under her eyes, but her gaze was locked on him with a quiet blaze he didn't understand.

'We got Selena out,' said Rose in a small voice. 'And Thane and Saida and - and Scorpius are in jail. Uncle Harry's sorting all of that out. You did it, Matt, you pulled it all off…'

Even sitting up was tiring, though, and Matt slumped back. 'What's happened?'

'I don't…'

'_Rose_ -'

Annie's hand was at his left shoulder, touch gentle. 'The Healers have done everything they can. You're going to be _fine_, and there are long-term options we can look at, but what happened was - I don't know if you remember it…'

Pain. He remembered pain, and blood, and a soul-wrenching fear that went even deeper than his terror they would fail their mission. With shuddering breath he looked down at his burning hand, only to see white sheets and the white bandage-wrapped stump of his right arm.

'Oh,' he said, voice bland because there was no emotion which fit. 'Shit.'

'There are options,' Rose reeled off, a little fast, like she was relaying answers in a stressful test. 'Magical prosthetics, but first you need to rest and recover and the Healers will talk about things.'

'Sophie's going to be here, she'll be pulled out of Hogwarts tonight; Mum would be sorting that out but she's got…' Annie's face creased. 'Matty, I don't want to put too much on you -'

'What _else _has happened?' His mouth felt like he'd swallowed a carpet.

Annie managed to not give Rose a reproachful glance as she said, 'Dad's been arrested by the Aurors. They think he's been stealing information from the Ministry, interfering with IMC operations, and undermining the war with the Council of Thorns.'

'Oh,' Matt said again, and when he coughed it came with a rueful laugh. 'I guess he _has _been doing that.'

'They're also investigating Uncle Toby on suspicion of helping him…'

'Hell's teeth…'

'And - look, you should rest.' Annie looked down at her hands. 'You really are going to be okay.'

_I don__'t have a hand_, Matt thought, his gaze going to the ceiling. _That__'s a textbook definition of 'not okay'_. The blazing in his wrist remained, a dull throbbing sense that threatened to make any rest impossible, but he was too worn, too exhausted, to feel anything other than slow-dawning acceptance.

What _use _would any other feeling be, anyway?

'I'll check in with Mum,' said Annie after a pause, and got to her feet, brushing herself down. 'I'll just be outside.' He croaked an answer, then she was gone, and all he had was Rose's awkward gaze and Selena's blazing stare, and the burning in his hand.

It was Rose who spoke, still in that tense, quick voice. 'Matt, I'm so sorry…'

'Don't…' _Don__'t look at me like that_, was what he wanted to say, but his voice did him the mercy of cracking before the words could come. 'Did we get the Chalice?'

'We did - there's _lots _happening, but you don't need to worry about it for -'

'Can I just - I think I'd like to rest. Just for a bit.'

Rose stared at him for a moment, then nodded. 'Okay.' She padded to his side, reached out to smooth the sheets on the bed like he had no hands instead of one, and bent down to give him an awkward peck on the forehead. 'I'll check in with things, but I'll be back, okay?'

He just nodded and slumped back, eyes shutting, and heard her walk off, heard the door to his room creak open and shut. His jaw tightened in the silence as his chest did, a choking sense to cut off all breath, all thought, as the fire in his hand - no, in his wrist, in his _stump _- spread along the arm, into his lungs, smothered him -

'I can go,' came a low voice and the scraping of stool legs, 'I just wanted to - to -'

Matt's eyes snapped open to see Selena pulling up the stool next to the bed. She was pale, her hair a state, worn and exhausted, with sunken cheeks and dark eyes. When her fingers reached for his left hand, he could feel the tremble in her touch, and squeezed back. The fire in his throat subsided, and a drained smile came to his lips, unbidden. 'Hey - you _are _okay, aren't you? They didn't hurt you?'

Her breath caught and she shook her head, mute for a moment. 'No, no. I'm _fine_, don't you worry about me, don't you _dare _worry about me -'

'I _do_…' Then their fingers were entwined, and she'd bowed her head for golden hair to trail over the white bedsheets, along the back of his hand. The fire faded to dull embers, and its absence made his head spin and dip and dive amongst the blazing light of this white sanctum.

'I know,' she breathed. 'They told me what you did, how much you did to get me back.'

'We all -'

'They told me how much _you _did.' Selena's gaze snapped up to meet his, clear-eyed and anguished. 'And I saw you in Saint Annard, I saw how you _fought_, you stupid, _stupid _man…'

But the reproach was grief-stricken rather than admonishing, and he pulled his hand from hers to raise it. His fingertips brushed across her cheek and she tilted her head to press it against her palm, breathing unsteady. 'You're okay,' Matt whispered, and without the fire holding him down, he could _float_, or so it felt. 'You're okay, and that's _all _that matters, and I'd lose a thousand hands for that price if it meant you could keep spinning gold all over me with your hair…'

Her gaze flickered, then the tiniest smile of wry realisation crossed her face. 'Oh, Merlin.' Guilt faded from her voice. 'Those anti-pain draughts are really kicking in, aren't they.'

_Maybe_. 'I mean it,' he said instead, thumb running a line across her jaw, like he could brush away the tarnish coating the silver and gold he knew was underneath her pain. 'You're okay and that's everything, and you don't look at me like I'm saving you from drowning and you _owe _me for it… and I didn't mean to run to Rose over you, I didn't, I _really _didn't…'

Her touch at his wrist tightened and her lips parted, but he carried on before she could cut him off. He was floating, but all of this was holding him down, pinning him down, and if he didn't shrug off these burdens then the fire he could still feel thrumming through his right wrist would consume him whole.

'I had to help her,' he croaked, 'but I thought you were running from me. I thought _you _were pushing me away, and I tried and tried, but I couldn't. I wanted to chase you, but I had to help Rose, and I couldn't do both, so I helped her when she was in pain and I thought you… I thought you ran from me.' Her face sank as he rambled, but now she wasn't interrupting him. 'I don't know if I got too close, or if you thought I'd hurt you, and I'm _sorry. _So when it _mattered_, I had to do this, I had to… to save you. And I always will, if you - let me save you…'

Every word took a chunk out of her veneer of control he had never been deceived by. When his voice trailed off, she was staring at him with a sunken expression of grief and guilt, until she pulled away to stand, and the absence of her touch was like fire again at his fingertips.

'You need to rest,' said Selena in a low voice he'd never heard her use before. With only a moment's hesitation, she bent down to kiss him on the forehead, and that was enough, for now, to douse the flames. 'You stupid, stupid, dear man.'

He wanted to catch the gold that dangled at him as she bent, but then it was gone and so was she. _Let me save you_, he thought, drifting amid the white sheets and the white walls and the white lights of his hospital room, with the faintest embers at the stump where his right arm ended.

* * *

><p><em>AN: They say __"write what you know". I assure you that the amount of sense Matt's making while high on anti-pain drugs is about as much sense as I've made in hospital doped up on gas and air. It really does make you super-honest and utterly nonsensical._


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